Spring of Drowned Dojo
by Ambulatory Kettle
Summary: A new scheme by Nabiki leads to new arrivals at the dojo, and new complications... Latest installment - Part VI: Best Laid Plans; with much scheming at hand and counter-scheming afoot, and probably some other body-parts thrown in for good measure.
1. Part I: Sensei

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other copyright holders who are not me. All obnoxious original characters in this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

* * *

Note: The first three parts of this story were released on the FFML under the working title "Life is Complicated." Future title-changes are not outside the realm of possibility.

* * *

**Spring of Drowned Dojo**  
_The Life and Times of an Aquatransexual Martial Arts Instructor_

A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions  
written by Ambulatory Kettle

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Part I: Sensei

Nabiki bit down on the eraser of her pencil. It didn't taste very good, but she hardly noticed. With her brow knit in concentration and worry, she scanned the household budget yet again.

She sighed and let the pencil fall from her lips and dangle loosely in her fingers. Gazing up at the ceiling of her room, Nabiki felt, for one of the few times in her life, helpless. There simply didn't seem to be any way that the Tendou accounts could regain any sort of balance after a year of freeloaders, interlopers, and the repeated property damage they had caused. Nabiki's assets were rapidly draining.

The answer was simple. They needed another source of income beyond her market investments and private rackets - preferably a second source of income that didn't involve panda's cleaning doctor's offices, since animals, even endangered ones, weren't protected under Japanese labor laws regarding fair wages; and Toufuu-sensei really couldn't afford to pay Uncle Saotome very much anyway.

Nabiki grimaced at the ceiling. The ceiling refused to grimace back, remaining placid.

While the answer was simple, the solution was more difficult. Nabiki didn't particularly like the idea of asking others for financial help, but she was willing to do it. The real problem was, who?

The answer to this question, she knew, was also obvious. She could either borrow money from Kunou - she shuddered at the thought - or she could mobilize the household's... unused human resources. The first possibility was out of the question; that left the second option.

This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

"Daddy... Uncle...? I have some bad news."

Ranma looked up from the TV and over to where Nabiki stood, hands clasped behind her back. Uncle Tendou's hand was poised over the shogi board as he and Pop gazed expectantly at the middle Tendou daughter standing over them.

Nabiki hesitated, a look of contrition precisely etched on her face. Ranma guessed it was, like most of Nabiki's expressions, well- schooled, if not a total facade.

"Yes?" her father prompted her. "What is it Nabiki?"

Ranma had to admit that his own curiosity was piqued. What was Nabiki up to this time?

"Now, don't be too upset, Father," Nabiki began. "But all the family savings are nearly gone!" She flung out the utterance like a handkerchief cast into the wind. A wrist cocked dramatically to her forehead, she continued, "There is only one thing we can do to save ourselves from debt. You or Uncle will have to start teaching classes regularly... otherwise I will be forced to marry that obsessive imbecile Kunou-chan for his money!"

As she turned away in apparent despair, Ranma caught the faintest glimpse of a smirk on her lips.

_Thought so,_ he mentally congratulated himself. Nabiki _was_ up to something - then again, when was she not?

To everyone's obvious surprise, Uncle Tendou did not immediately burst into tears. He looked down at the shogi board where his hand was poised, his face serious, his eyes focusing on some distant point beyond the board. He placed his hand in his lap, then nodded solemnly.

"I... understand, Nabiki." Uncle Tendou said, his voice as grave as his expression. With a look of determination in his eyes, he stood. "It is my duty and responsibility as a man and as your father to provide for this household. I can't simply sit around while my family's livelihood is at risk; I must take action. I will begin the necessary preparations at once." Uncle Tendou turned and strode purposefully but unhurriedly down the hall to his room. The muffled sounds of a phone conversation could be heard a moment later. Ranma guessed he was phoning former students or people he knew who might be interested in joining Anything Goes Martial Arts classes.

_New students in the dojo, hm?_ Ranma thought. This could either be interesting, or extremely obnoxious. Considering his past year in the Tendou household, he was betting on the latter.

Pop shrugged it off with a murmur of, "Better him than me," and switched some pieces on the game board.

Nabiki, on the other hand, looked stunned. Ranma could hardly blame her. He felt a little bit surprised himself by Uncle Tendou's reaction, but he decided that it didn't really involve him, as long as there would still be food on the table, and he didn't care enough to get all the way to full-blown befuddlement. He thought he heard Nabiki mutter something about, "easier than I thought" but Ranma just turned back to the television. To his disappointment, it was now in the middle of a commercial. (For those who have come by the misconception that Japanese TV commercials are highly entertaining, it should be noted that only a rare few are outrageous enough to be funny, and the average Japanese commercial is about as entertaining as the average North American commercial; in other words, not.)

Uncle Tendou re-entered the room, his face still dour.

"Everything has been set," he said with great finality. He looked around the room. "I wish everyone were here for this announcement, but I can't stand on ceremony." His eyes fell on his daughter. "Nabiki, you will marry Kunou Tatewaki."

_"What!?"_

Uncle Tendou took a step back at the force of Nabiki's exclamation. Pop looked blankly from Nabiki to his old friend and back again. Ranma just sat for a second. Then he burst into laughter, trying to keep himself from rolling on the floor as tears of hilarity and ill-gotten joy sprang to his eyes.

"I... I called Principal Kunou and made the arrangements," Uncle Tendou explained, a quaver of anxiety entering his voice. "You're now engaged to Tatewaki-kun."

Ranma nearly doubled over in a renewed fit of laughter, slapping the floor. Nabiki shot him a quick glare like icy daggers; it might have been more effective if the whole situation hadn't been so side- splittingly funny.

Then he felt cold water being dumped over his head. Ranma opened her eyes. Nabiki was holding a bunch of flowers in one hand and an up- ended vase in the other. Suddenly, things weren't quite so funny anymore. Ranma tried to replicate the glare Nabiki had given earlier, but she knew that even if she could glare like Nabiki could, the only person in the world who would be immune to it would be Nabiki herself.

Nabiki carefully placed the flowers in the empty vase and set it back on the table, then turned her gaze to pierce her father. "Are you telling me Kunou-chan's father actually _agreed_?"

"Don't yell at your poor father!" Uncle Tendou started to blubber like a baby, but sobered as his expression gradually grew thoughtful.

"Now that you mention it..." Uncle Tendou scratched his head, a gesture somewhere between nervous and pensive, "Principal Kunou actually said something about putting a lime in a coconut, and to call him back tomorrow morning, but I was pretty sure that meant yes."

Nabiki let out a frustrated breath that was somewhere between a sigh of exasperation and a growl of rage. "Daddy, I am _not_ going to marry Kunou!"

"But, but, you said..." Uncle Tendou stuttered helplessly.

"I know what I said!" Nabiki interrupted. "What I _meant_ was you and Uncle Saotome had better take on some students or we won't be able to afford to keep the dojo! Capisce?"

"Waaaah!" Uncle Tendou collapsed in a storm of tears. "You're yelling at your poor, old father again! Oh, what would your mother say if she were here!"

Nabiki just stood with her arms crossed, not buying it. Ranma herself was a little bit disgusted by Uncle Tendou's display, as she often was.

"The long-suffering widower routine isn't going to work this time, Daddy," Nabiki said flatly.

Looking panicked, tears still in his eyes, Uncle Tendou turned to his still poker-faced friend and companion, gripping his shoulder in a plea for aid.

"Saotome-kun, I can't do it - see how emotionally fragile I've become? You'll have to teach the classes!"

Pop gave Uncle Tendou a slightly wide-eyed blank stare. Then he leapt away, his gi coat coming away in Uncle Tendou's hand.

"Saotome-kun! Come back here-!" Uncle shouted, but was cut off by a loud splash.

Ranma ran to the doorway, afraid she already knew what she was going to see.

As she predicted, her eyes were greeted by a dripping wet panda playing with a tire and holding up a sign that read: "I'm just an ordinary panda - pandas can't teach martial arts classes."

Anger started building inside Ranma; anger that had nothing to do with household finances and everything to do with her father's cowardly behavior. She decided now was as good a time as any to interfere. A quick dash and a swift kick punted her pandafied father over the Tendou residence wall. "Come back when you have less fur and more brains, old man!"

Ranma clenched her teeth at her father's complete lack of shame in avoiding any sort of responsibility, and turned back to the house - only to discover that Nabiki and Uncle Tendou were both staring at her in a way that, for some reason, made her very uneasy.

"What're you looking at!" she growled, trying to hide her anxiety. "You never seen a guy kick a panda over a wall before?"

Oddly, they didn't bother to point out that Ranma wasn't actually a guy at the moment. They just kept staring at her disconcertingly.

Uncle Tendou's eyes were narrowed in thought. "Nabiki... Ranma's a better martial artist than either Saotome-kun or myself..."

Nabiki smiled sweetly, "Why yes, Daddy, so he - she is."

Ranma didn't like that smile one bit. It looked... predatory.

"Hey, now, don't you go getting any crazy ideas!" Ranma tried to sound intimidating, but knew that against Nabiki it was a wasted effort.

Nabiki's smile broke into a malicious grin. "I would never dream of it... Ranma-sensei."

Ranma swallowed.

* * *

Ukyou was keeping busy; it was the lowest point of the lull between the lunch and dinner peaks, but she was still hard at work, scraping down the griddle in preparation for the evening rush. It wasn't really a necessary task at this point, but Ukyou found that occupying her hands kept her mind off other things. Like Ranchan's recent behavior towards her...

Ukyou made a face at the griddle. Best not to dwell on it. Soon enough, he'd realize there was no good reason to be upset with her and be back hanging around Ucchan's in no time.

Someone stepped into the restaurant, and a hopeful vision of Ranchan walking in flashed through Ukyou's mind. She raised her head, putting on a smile.

"Welco- Nabiki!"

"No need to act so surprised," Nabiki assured her calmly. "I'm not here to collect on anything."

Ukyou's reaction had been more disappointment than surprise, but she decided not to make a point of it.

"What brings you here then?" Ukyou asked, wiping her hands on a towel. "Looking to grab a late lunch?" Nabiki didn't usually come to Ucchan's without some poor sap in tow to pin the bill on.

Nabiki shook her head. "No, thanks, Ukyou. I ate already." She looked around the empty restaurant. "Konatsu here? I had... something I wanted to ask him."

Ukyou eyed Nabiki suspiciously for a moment. "Konatsu?" Ukyou called, barely raising her voice above normal conversation.

"Yes, Ukyou-sama?" Suddenly, he was at her side. Ukyou would have jumped at this, but she had grown used to it. Nabiki managed to merely blink and look mildly surprised.

"Nabiki has something she wanted to ask-"

Nabiki broke in before Ukyou could say anything more. "I'd like to arrange an exchange of favors."

"With me?" Konatsu asked, looking puzzled.

"Yes and no. With Ukyou really, but I know you'll do what's needed because you're such a loyal... friend." Nabiki smirked.

"I would do anything for Ukyou-sama!" Konatsu proclaimed, kneeling in supplication.

Ukyou had trouble hiding her annoyance. "Would you stop that?"

Konatsu stood obediently. "Yes, Ukyou-sama."

Ukyou sighed in exasperation and returned her attention to Nabiki. "Alright. What is it you want?" she asked resignedly.

"I know Konatsu is fast and discreet and can cover a lot of ground quickly."

"Yes?" Ukyou prompted. Where was this going?

"Well, I happen to need some flyers put up, and I want as wide a distribution as I can get. I'd like Konatsu to post them for me."

"Why couldn't you just hire someone to do it?"

"Because this way is _free_."

"No it's not," Ukyou countered. "What 'favor' are you offering in return for the service?"

"A two month extension on the loan I gave you after your... unfortunate profit losses."

_You mean after Konatsu gave all our profits away to customers as free 'prizes',_ Ukyou thought.

Konatsu was eager to jump into the breach. "I will do it!"

"Not - so - fast," Ukyou interrupted. "What sort of flyers?"

"Just a little advertisement." Nabiki smiled disarmingly.

Ukyou made sure to give Nabiki her most skeptical eyebrow-quirk. She held out her hand expectantly.

Nabiki stared at the awaiting palm for a moment, then reached into her blouse with a tiny sigh of resignation. She pulled out a small square of paper and started unfolding it. She handed Ukyou the unfolded flyer. "That's just a prototype," she added.

Ukyou looked down at the sheet of paper held in her hand. The words "Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts" ran across the top in bold letters, and beneath that, slightly smaller, "At the Tendou Dojo." Under this eye-grabbing heading was the eye-grabbing graphic of the advertisement, two photos side by side, one of Ranchan and the other of - Ranchan. In the photo on the left, Ranchan was posing cutely (Ukyou _really_ wondered how Nabiki had gotten _that_ shot). But the image on the right was the one that caught and kept Ukyou's attention: Ranchan looking very manly, fists half-cocked at his sides, relaxed but ready, his stance and smile confident. His gi was pulled loose from recent exercise, a sheen of sweat on his half exposed chest. She felt a little stab in her chest at the sight.

_Well, Nabiki certainly knows how to pick her advertising material,_ Ukyou thought. Even if girls who weren't already madly in love with Ranchan found the photo half as arresting as she did, they would probably be sold on it instantly. And guys would probably be sold even faster on the photo of Ranma's girl half, Ukyou supposed.

She scanned down the page, reading the small but bold print below the eye-candy: "Head Instructor Saotome Ranma."

_Eh? Ranchan, teaching martial arts classes?_ Ukyou scanned further, noting the words "Moderating Instructors Saotome Genma and Tendou Soun" and "Business Manager Tendou Nabiki," just above the address and contact information and a little map showing the location of the dojo in relation to nearby landmarks and train stations. At the bottom of the page, one phrase stood out in bold: "Open House and Free Seminar this Sunday," and the date.

Ukyou eyed Nabiki again. "Trying to use Ranchan to make you some money again?" She barely managed to keep the growl out of her voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you planning to object?" Nabiki asked in mock-innocent surprise. "I don't seem to remember hearing any complaints the time I rented him out to you."

Now Ukyou did growl, but said nothing. She could feel her face reddening in suppressed anger and shame. That had been different; Ranchan _liked_ spending time with her... at least, he used to...

"Besides," Nabiki continued. "Ranma knows all about it. It's not like he's contributed anything to the household budget so far besides big negative numbers; he's just learning a little financial responsibility, that's all."

"And Ranchan... agreed to this idea?" Ukyou asked.

One corner of Nabiki's mouth quirked up. "Not exactly. But as I said, he knows about it. He's under no duress." Nabiki's lips parted, showing her teeth. "And if he cooperates, it'll stay that way too."

Ukyou glanced at Konatsu. He looked back at her, awaiting instruction.

With a sigh, Ukyou handed the flyer back to Nabiki. "Sorry, sugar, I can't participate in something that Ranchan might be against."

"Oh, like that's ever stopped you before."

Ukyou just set her lips in a thin line and said nothing.

Nabiki was giving her an appraising look - the appraising look, the one that could make anyone feel like a bug under a microscope.

"Ranma still giving you the cold shoulder?" Nabiki's voice was quiet and smooth, without emotion; it hardly sounded like a question.

Ukyou was certain the glare she gave Nabiki would have set a lesser woman's hair on fire; Nabiki seemed unaffected.

Nabiki added, in a helpful tone of voice, "Next time you're at a wedding, I suggest throwing rice. It may not be as spectacular as exploding okonomiyaki, but it's easier to... clean up after. Wouldn't want to make a mess again, would we?"

Ukyou felt her jaw tighten. She broke away from Nabiki's gaze, blinking at the sudden moisture in her eyes. _Damn her._

Yes, Ukyou certainly had made a mess of things, hadn't she. But Ranchan couldn't possibly have _wanted_ to marry that tomboy. Ukyou was the cute fiancée; she was trying to _save_ him.

"Really, Ukyou," Nabiki continued, obviously unimpeded by the distress she was causing, "do you think helping me could make things that much worse than you made them yourself?"

"Shut _up_!" Ukyou exploded. She clenched her fists as hard as she could to keep from shaking. Her fingernails dug into her palms painfully. She ignored it.

Nabiki's expression softened slightly. "Howsabout this, kiddo. I'll help you patch things up with Ranma, _and_ extend your loan, if you get your little man-sla... er, friend to put up the flyers."

Ukyou took a deep breath, steadying herself. She unclenched her fists. Inhaling another steadying breath, she let it out in a, "How?"

"How, what?"

"How could you help? And why should I believe you?"

Nabiki's face was dead serious. "Tendou Nabiki never backs out of a deal. If the terms of the deal say I'll help you, you'd better believe I'll do it."

Ukyou looked away again. In a small voice, she said, "Alright."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ukyou could see Nabiki smile as though nothing untoward had just happened, as if no one had just been on the edge of breaking down in tears and ripping apart half of the restaurant.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Nabiki said, her tone so expertly modulated it almost didn't sound condescending. Almost.

"Konatsu, stop by our place later this evening, say, oh, eight o' clock or so. I should have all the flyers ready by then."

"I will be there; anything for Ukyou-sama's happiness."

Nabiki nodded once curtly, and left.

Konatsu shuffled cautiously up to Ukyou's side. "Ukyou-sama... are you all right?" He gasped, "Your hands! You're bleeding!"

Ukyou looked down at her palms; tiny drops of blood were welling to the surface where her fingernails had bitten into her skin.

"It's nothing, Konatsu," her voice sounding dead and emotionless in her own ears. "I'll be fine."

"But Ukyou-sama-!"

"I said it's nothing!" Ukyou barked, more harshly than she had intended. Konatsu shrunk back, stung.

"Sorry," she apologized, her voice still hollow. "I... didn't mean to shout at you."

"It's okay, Ukyou-sama. I'm sure I deserved no less than-"

"Oh, shut up and... go clean the bathroom or something."

"Yes, Ukyou-sama."

* * *

Kasumi knew she was very observant. She wasn't overly proud of it the way she would be proud of a particularly good batch of miso soup, it was simply the way she was. She realized that some people, when they first met her or if they didn't know her very well, often mistook her calm smile for vacuousness and her serene unflappability for a sign that she was not really in touch with reality. But Kasumi didn't really mind if people thought that about her. Of course, Kasumi didn't mind most things. She simply didn't see any sense in becoming befuddled or upset over every little thing.

Perhaps the only thing that Kasumi could never really abide was rudeness. She frowned a tiny, almost imperceptible frown at the dish she was cleaning. Yes, rudeness and unkindness she simply couldn't tolerate. Oh, and bad haircuts. Bad haircuts were the worst offense.

The phone rang, interrupting Kasumi's reflections. She dried her hands quickly on her apron as she went to answer it, wondering aloud, "Now who could that be?" They didn't usually get calls in the middle of the afternoon.

She lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello, Tendou residence."

"Hi, do you teach kendo?"

Kasumi blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"I saw your ad, I was just wondering if you have kendo classes there. This is the Tendou Dojo, right?"

"Yes, it is, but I'm sorry we don't teach kendo here."

"No? Oh, well, maybe I'll come check it out anyway. Thanks."

Click.

Kasumi sat in the chair next to the phone, bringing the fingers of one hand to her cheek. What a strange call.

The phone rang again. _How odd,_ Kasumi thought, and picked up the phone again.

"Hello, Tendou residence."

"'Ey der, wahine, dis da big kahuna. Dis mornin', I be t'inkin'. Den later I not be t'inkin' so much. Den after dat I be t'inkin' again some more. I be t'inkin', my Tatchi, he such a lonely keike. What he need is a good wahine look after him an' da kine. So me jes callin' t'say my Tatchi, he marry yo' li'l wahine Tendou Nabiki. We gon' have big luau, yeah? You tell dem Tendou Soun, 'kay wahine?"

"I'll... be sure to mention it to Father."

"Okaey den. Aloha!"

Click.

Kasumi slowly replaced the receiver onto its cradle, her eyes slightly wide.

"Oh my." It seemed to her like the appropriate thing to say.

She heard the front door open and then shut.

"I'm home!"

Nabiki walked in. "Hey, Sis, what's up?" she asked when she caught sight of Kasumi sitting in the hall.

"Welcome home Nabiki-chan," Kasumi greeted her. "The oddest thing just happened."

Nabiki gave Kasumi one of her usual sardonic, questioning looks.

"What? You mean besides people changing into pandas and stuff?"

"No, Nabiki-chan, I said odd. A strange call - actually two strange calls in a row."

"So that's more odd than people changing into pandas?"

"Nabiki-chan, please stop saying Uncle Saotome is odd, it isn't polite," Kasumi chastened. "Really, Nabiki, sometimes I really worry about your bad behavior."

"My bad behav-?" Nabiki cut herself off with a roll of her eyes. "Whatever, Sis. So what was so strange about these calls you got?"

"Well, the first one sounded like a young man, and he was asking about what sort of martial arts were taught at the dojo here. He said something about seeing an ad."

Nabiki frowned. "That is strange. I haven't distributed any of the flyers yet." Her frown deepened as her gaze abstracted, obviously in thought. "Someone must have gotten a hold of a prototype copy."

She shrugged it off. "Well, no big deal. Any calls for me?"

Kasumi shook her head. "No, the second call... well I believe it was for Father, actually."

"Oh yeah? From who?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but it was a middle-aged gentleman I believe, and he had the strangest way of talking. He said something about you getting married to someone named Tatchi."

Nabiki froze.

"Do you know anyone by that name, Nabiki-chan?"

It was obvious from Nabiki's reaction that she had some idea what the call was about, though her face was a blank mask.

"No," she said evenly. "Probably just a wrong number."

"Oh, but he mentioned you and Father by name."

Nabiki licked her lips. "Look, Sis, could you do me a big favor?"

Nabiki, asking for a favor? Kasumi looked her sister in the eyes, wondering if she was feeling alright. She saw a glimmer of fear there, hidden behind a carefully neutral expression.

Nabiki's facade never could fool Kasumi. The call worried Nabiki. Kasumi smiled, and decided to indulge her little sister.

"Of course I can do you a favor, Nabiki-chan. What do you need?"

"I need you to forget about that call. Forget it ever happened."

"But I told the man I would pass his message on to Father."

"Sis..." Nabiki's controlled voice held an undertone of panic.

"Well..."

"Sis, please!" Nabiki was actually _pleading_ with her. This was most unusual.

"Alright, Nabiki-chan. I'll try to forget the phone ever rang."

"_Thank_ you," Nabiki said sincerely. She turned and headed for the stairs.

Two strange calls, then Nabiki asks a favor, pleads, and says something with complete sincerity. Kasumi imagined that this had to be one of the oddest days in her young life.

* * *

From the Tendou house rooftop, Ranma could clearly make out the dark-clad figure that slipped silently over the wall and into the yard. Geez, what now?

Standing, he took a few steps running start and leapt. A little flip with an aerial twist and he landed silently behind the intruder.

The figure, clad in black, was creeping slowly across the yard towards the house. Ranma briefly debated yelling, "Hey!" while standing right behind the intruder, sacrificing the element of surprise for what would probably be a really funny reaction. He discarded the notion and instead reached one strong arm forward and wrapped it around the intruders neck in a vise-like headlock.

"Alright, pal," Ranma said, his voice dripping menace and disdain. "Who the hell are you and what're you doing sneaking around the Tendou Dojo?"

"Ulp!" was the only response.

Ulp? Hmm... maybe his headlock was a little _too_ vise-like. He pulled the intruder's mask off. A long black ponytail fell out.

"Er... Konatsu? That you?"

"Ulp!"

He let go.

It was, indeed, Konatsu, he saw as the kunoichi raised his head. "Ranma-san," he said, then swallowed a few times, massaging his throat, and continued, "please forgive my intrusion. I've come to put up some flyers for Nabiki-san."

Ranma didn't like the sound of that. "_What_ flyers?"

"Well... I think they're flyers advertising classes at the dojo here."

"Uh-huh," Ranma replied, eyes half-lidded. "Listen, Konatsu. Hate to break it to ya, but... Nabiki won't be needing those flyers put up after all."

"No?" Konatsu's face fell. "Oh. That's too bad. I was so looking forward to helping out Ukyou-sama..."

"What? What's this got to do with Ucchan?"

"Well, Nabiki said that she would help... would help Ukyou-sama if I did this for her."

Che. Now Ucchan was conspiring with Nabiki? What next?

"What was Nabiki going to help Ucchan with, exactly?" Ranma thought he could guess.

Konatsu fidgeted nervously. "Well... she was going to extend her loan, and..." Konatsu's voice got smaller, "she said she'd help out with... well... you."

Yep. He'd guessed it.

"Help out with me how?"

"I... don't know."

"... Uh-huh."

Konatsu fidgeted some more under Ranma's gaze and looked down at the ground.

"Does this 'help' involve renting me out? Or possibly blowing things up?"

"Ranma-san," Konatsu said, looking very earnest. "You must know Ukyou-sama is deeply sorry about what happened. She would never do anything if she thought it would hurt you."

"Go home, Konatsu," Ranma said flatly, holding out the ninja-mask.

Konatsu looked crushed. "Yes, sir." He took the mask and slunk dejectedly back towards the wall, the picture of dashed aspirations.

"Wait... Konatsu..."

The world's only male (though he hardly looked it) kunoichi turned back, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Yes, Ranma-san?"

Ranma looked down at his feet. Then he looked up at the sky. He had a very bad feeling he was going to regret what he was about to do.

He looked back at Konatsu. "Look... why don't you come back in about... wait, when were you supposed to meet Nabiki here, anyway?"

"Eight o' clock."

Ranma just stared. "It's... like four in the afternoon."

"Oh? Is it?" Konatsu looked slightly abashed. "I guess I got a little ahead of myself. I was so excited about helping Ukyou-sama."

Ranma stared some more. "Riiiight... anyway, why don't you come back in about four hours and see if Nabiki still needs your help."

Konatsu's face brightened with joy. "Yes, I will, Ranma-san!"

"Oh... and, Konatsu?"

"Yes, Ranma-san?"

"You can use the front door next time."

"Thank you, Ranma-san."

"Actually, why don't you make a point of using the front door whenever you come here. Oh, and... if you're gonna insist on the ninja outfit, at least wear the hood with the hole for your ponytail so I'll be able to recognize you and won't think you're some freak sneaking around the dojo."

"Oh, yes, of course, Ranma-san. I've just been wearing this one recently because it was a gift from Ukyou-sama and I haven't had time to make any alteration, and I'm not sure if Ukyou-sama would want me to-"

"Konatsu," Ranma interjected.

"Yes, Ranma-san?"

"Go home."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Nabiki lay stretched out on her side watching TV, one hand propping up her head. An open textbook lay in front of her, to skim during commercial breaks - though usually she just ended up mentally analyzing the methods and effectiveness of the advertisements with a discerning eye.

"I'm home," her father announced as he walked in from the hall.

"Welcome home," Nabiki mumbled. Kasumi's more enthusiastic response echoed her from the kitchen.

"How was school, Nabiki?"

"School was fine, Daddy."

"Did anything happen while I was gone?"

"Not really."

Kasumi bustled in from the kitchen. "Oh, that reminds me; there was a call for you while you were out, Father."

Nabiki's head snapped around to look at Kasumi, her heart suddenly beating twice as fast.

"A call for me, you say? Who was it?"

_No._

"I'm not quite sure who it was father, but-"

"You promised!" Nabiki blurted.

"Yes, that's right," Kasumi agreed. "I promised him I would relay his message."

_She promised!_ Nabiki seethed, scrambling to her feet. _She promised she'd forget the phone ever even rang!_

"Funny," Kasumi was saying, "I don't remember the phone ringing, - Nabiki's palpitating heart dropped into her stomach - "but I'm sure there was a call, and I remember what he said."

Nabiki felt like the world had just turned upside down. This was a trick worthy of Nabiki herself, not Kasumi.

"What are you doing!" Nabiki hissed at her sister in a stage whisper.

"Please don't interrupt, Nabiki-chan," Kasumi said pleasantly. "It's rude. Now, where was I..."

_Trying to play me at my own game, eh? We'll see about that!_

Nabiki lunged for Kasumi's hand before she could get any further, hooking her sister's pinkie with her own.

"I sister-swear you to secrecy!"

Kasumi looked at Nabiki and their locked pinkies held up between them, her expression aghast - or as close to aghast as Kasumi ever got, which was somewhere between mildly shocked and disappointed.

"Nabiki-chan, that was a dirty trick!"

"You're one to talk, Miss 'I'll forget the phone ever rang'!"

Father looked annoyed. "I take it you're not going to tell me what this mysterious caller said now, are you?"

"I can't, Father," Kasumi said, matter-of-factly. "She swore me to secrecy."

Father raised his eyes heavenward, as if seeking support from the gods. Nabiki estimated they probably hadn't pulled a sister-swear on him in ten years, but he'd been conditioned very early on, so he was still taking it pretty well.

"Very well," he said, somewhat sullenly, but mostly wearily, and left the room.

"Now you've gone and upset Father," Kasumi chided, pulling her pinkie away from Nabiki's. "And made me break my promise to that poor fellow who called, too."

"Isn't a promise to your own sister more important?" Nabiki shot back.

Kasumi sniffed. "All promises are equally important. That's why I made sure I could keep them both."

Nabiki raised a hand to massage the bridge of her nose. "Sis... I gotta say, you never cease to amaze me."

* * *

"Ah, Ukyou, there you are."

Ukyou turned to see Nabiki approaching her down the school hallway.

"What do you want?" Ukyou asked guardedly.

Nabiki gave a false pout. "Now what's that tone of voice? I'm here to help you, after all."

"Help me?"

"With Ranma. As per our arrangement."

"Alright then, Nabiki-'senpai'," Ukyou replied evenly, crossing her arms over the front of her usual boy's uniform. "What did you have in mind?"

"Just follow me," Nabiki said, turning and gesturing for Ukyou to follow. "It'll all become clear."

"Wait a second, Nabiki, I got something to say to you."

Nabiki turned back and arched a questioning eyebrow.

Ukyou noted that they were alone in the hall. Good. No chance of Nabiki getting out of this one.

"That crap you pulled the other day, rubbing the wedding fiasco in my face - that was low. I really oughta kick your ass!"

"But you won't," Nabiki returned, almost smugly.

"Right," Ukyou agreed. "So I'll have to make due with this." She paused to inhale deeply. "You're a miserable, manipulative, money- grubbing hobag-bitch and I hope you die in your own feces!"

Nabiki's lips were pursed quizzically. "Are you done?"

"Yes," Ukyou breathed, feeling surprisingly better.

"Good. Then let's proceed."

* * *

Ranma was sitting with Daisuke and Hiroshi discussing last night's televised judo matches when an all-too-familiar throat-clearing sounded from over his shoulder. He knew who it was before he even turned his head to look.

"What do you want, Nabiki?"

Nabiki frowned slightly. "What is it with everyone today? So defensive. What, am I some kind of demon?"

"Worse," Ranma quipped. "You're Tendou Nabiki."

"Careful, Ranma," Hiroshi cautioned in a whisper. Ranma glanced back at Hiroshi and discovered he was trying to hide behind Daisuke; he seemed to be having some difficulty, since Daisuke was trying to hide behind him at the same time.

"I'll let that one slide," Nabiki told Ranma with a smirk. "But only because there's more pressing business."

"There is?" Ranma asked, and then realized that the time it had taken him to speak those fairly pointless words might have been better used in running away.

Nabiki nodded. Then raised her voice to carry over the general buzz of lunchtime conversation. "Okay, everyone, move out! Ukyou needs to talk to Ranma! Come on, come on, everybody out!"

A hiss of "_Nabiki!_" from the doorway cut through the general protests of Ranma's classmates. Ranma looked over to discover Ucchan was standing by the door, her face looking like it couldn't decide whether to turn extremely red, or very, very pale.

Much to Nabiki's obvious satisfaction, and despite numerous complaints and grumblings, Hiroshi and Daisuke led a grudging mass- exodus as everyone trickled out of the room at the command of their formidable senpai, leaving only Ucchan, Nabiki herself, and Ranma. He stood and faced Ucchan warily.

As Nabiki moved to follow the other students, Ucchan reached out and grabbed her arm in passing, looking panicked.

"This is your brilliant plan?" Ranma could hear her practically shout in a stage whisper.

Nabiki just smiled disingenuously, and pitched her voice so that Ranma could clearly overhear her response. "Just talk to him. It'll all work out." Her smile broadened as she glanced in Ranma's direction. "Trust me."

Ucchan looked hardly reassured at those words.

Nabiki left and shut the door behind her. Ucchan jumped slightly at the sound, her wide, fearful eyes locked on Ranma.

"Hey, U... Ukyou," he said, keeping his voice emotionless.

Ucchan looked slightly stung. "Hey."

Ranma crossed his arms and turned halfway away from her, staring out the window at nothing.

"You got something to say to me?"

"Ranchan... I... I..."

She came toward him, until she was standing right next to him. Ranma refused to look at her.

"Ranchan, why are you..." Ucchan's voice got very, very small, "why are you mad at me?"

Ranma rounded on her so fast he accidentally knocked a desk over. "Why do you think!"

Ucchan recoiled.

Ranma shut his eyes, trying to calm himself.

In a tiny voice, Ucchan answered, "The wedding...?"

"Yes!" he let out in frustration.

"But... you didn't actually want to _marry_ her... did you?" Ucchan's voice quavered at this question.

"Course not," Ranma grumbled. "That ain't the point."

"But... I thought-"

"I know what you _thought_. You _thought_ you were saving my neck. But what you were _actually_ doing -" Ranma paused for breath "- was tossing around explosives at my wedding!"

Ukyou took a step back. "Ranchan..."

"You didn't _ask_ me what I wanted, did you? No one ever asks me what I want!"

_And then when they do ask you what you want,_ a little voice said mockingly inside his head, _you can't admit you want it._

_Shut up._

Ucchan looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Ranchan, I was only trying to help!"

"Yeah, well you weren't!" He cocked a thumb at himself. "Hey! You think I would let anyone force me into something like _that_ against my own will? I coulda handled it myself! I had enough to worry about, with Shampoo and Kodachi and Happousai and Pop and getting _married_ when I didn't even wanna, without you throwing gunpowder into the mix!"

Ranma paused again for breath, and realized Ucchan was shaking with suppressed sobs. "Ranchan... I'm sorry."

He felt himself deflate, his momentum lost. He softened his tone slightly. "Yeah, well... next time, try asking before you go wrecking my wedding, 'kay?"

Ucchan's lip quivered. "Next time... maybe you could... try marrying a different fiancée?"

Ranma sighed, placing a hand on Ucchan's shoulder. "Look... Ucchan. I said I didn't wanna marry Akane, and that's the truth. But that's cause I don't wanna marry _anyone_ right now. I... just don't wanna get married yet. But... when I do... I want you to be there." He looked into her eyes. "Without the explosives."

Tears started streaming down Ucchan's cheeks and she collapsed forward into Ranma's chest. She mumbled something tearfully into the front of his shirt, shaking with silent sobs.

_Aw, crap,_ he thought, _why'd she have to go and start crying?_ Ranma knew he wasn't very good at handling crying girls. Angry girls he had plenty of experience with, but crying girls were another story.

He gingerly put his arms around her, trying to comfort her. "Hey... it's okay, Ucchan, I forgive you. We're still buddies, right?"

This just seemed to make Ucchan cry harder, much to Ranma's bafflement.

Then the door to the classroom slid open.

* * *

As Akane approached her class's room, it became very clear that something was amiss. A large crowd was gathered around the entrance, many of them trying to get a peak into the classroom, others listening at the wall. Akane pushed her way through the crowd and discovered Nabiki was standing in front of the closed door, blocking the way.

"Nabiki, what's going on here?"

Nabiki smiled cheerfully. "Hello, Akane. Ranma's just having a little private chat with Ukyou right now."

Akane frowned at this as storm clouds gathered in her mind, casting dark shadows on her thoughts. "Nabiki..."

"Sorry, kiddo, can't let you in right now. They should be done in a few minutes." Nabiki looked at her watch. "At least, they had better be, or I'm going to be late for afternoon classes."

If there was one thing that Akane didn't have to stand for, it was her sister's ultimatums. She shoved Nabiki somewhat roughly aside and put her hand decisively on the door handle.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Nabiki cautioned, an expression on her face that could only be described as bored amusement.

Akane shot her a defiant look, and slid the door open.

The sight of Ranma, his arms wrapped around Ukyou in a tender embrace, greeted Akane from the middle of the classroom.

Ranma looked up, color draining from his face. "Uh... Akane, this isn't what it looks like..."

She hardly even heard his words, let alone acknowledged their meaning. A haze of rage descended over Akane's vision, tinting the whole world red, with Ranma at the center.

"_Ranma!_"

Akane's fist tore through a desk that Ranma had been standing in front of just moments before.

"Akane, cut it out, lemme explain!"

"Shut _up_, you _jerk_!"

Akane lashed out again, sending a second desk flying across the room to crack against the wall.

Suddenly, her intended target was blocked out of her vision. "Leave Ranchan alone, you violent maniac!" Ukyou screamed into her face. Akane saw the wet trails of tears beneath Ukyou's puffy, reddened eyes, and felt her rage twist into confusion.

"Ukyou... what... what happened?"

"You stormed in here and went berserk for no reason, that's what happened!"

By the time Akane saw the hand coming, it was too late.

_Slap!_

Not a martial arts attack, but a well-placed smack to the face - the physical sting was nowhere near as harsh as the emotional shock that went with it. It felt more like a reprisal than a challenge.

"I hate you!" Ukyou shouted, and ran from the room.

Akane raised a hand to her smarting cheek, stunned. Ranma stood nearby, looking between her and the doorway, clearly torn.

"Uh... Akane...? Are you okay?"

Akane didn't know how to answer. She touched her fingers to the side of her face and then stared at her hand, half expecting to see some residue of Ukyou's righteous fury.

"Really, Akane," Nabiki was saying as she stepped into the room and around a broken desk, which she eyed meaningfully. "Has it ever occurred to you to stop and assess a situation before you charge blindly in and start trying to clobber people?"

Daisuke popped his head in behind her, looking around cautiously before entering. "Hey, what was that all about? Did Ukyou just dump you, Ranma?"

"N-no!"

"Oh. You mean you dumped her?"

"_No!_"

Akane sighed. Just like Ranma to protest before he thought about what he was saying. She would have hit him, but for some reason all the anger had been drained out of her.

"Ranma," Akane broke in pointedly.

"What?" Ranma hopped away, putting some more distance between them and going into a defensive stance.

"You're an idiot," she said wearily, and, putting purpose in her stride, walked out of the room.

* * *

"... Ukyou?"

The sound of Akane's hesitant voice made Ukyou start. She looked up at her rival's face, deeply lined with concern, and then away. Here was the last person she wanted sympathy from right now.

Akane steadfastly refused to take a hint. She tucked under her skirt and sat down next to Ukyou at the railing on the school rooftop. Nerima spread out before them, picturesque and deceptively peaceful in the afternoon sun.

Ukyou turned her head away and scrubbed vigorously at her eyes with a sleeve of her uniform, not wanting Akane to see her crying, though she knew it was a lost cause. "Go 'way!"

"Ukyou..." Akane began. "I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have... exploded... like I did."

At the word "exploded," the memory of Ranma's tirade resurfaced, and a lump in Ukyou's chest threatened to move up into her throat. She managed to swallow both back down with a few gulping sobs.

Ukyou knew Akane was being sincere in her apology. If nothing else, Akane was about as guileless as her sister Nabiki was guile-full. Ukyou would have liked to just continue being mad at Akane, but she was having trouble. The real reason she was upset now was not really Akane's fault, though Ukyou desperately wanted to blame her.

"I'm sorry too," Ukyou finally relented, her voice barely above a whisper.

Akane touched her own cheek lightly. "I probably deserved it." She paused, as if uncertain how to continue. "Did Ranma really... dump you?"

It was the question Ukyou didn't want to answer. Technically speaking, no, Ranchan had not dumped her. He had merely said that he wanted her to be at his future wedding, whenever it occurred. Not as his bride, not as his future wife, but as his friend.

Without even knowing it, Ranchan had crushed Ukyou's hopes with one, innocent utterance. She knew that that was the reason she had hit Akane, striking out at a convenient target - the girl who Ukyou feared had taken Ranchan from her. A girl she felt didn't deserve him, didn't love him.

Or did she?

"What do you care if he dumped me or not?"

Akane looked away. "It doesn't really matter to me one way or the other," she said, an edge of annoyance in her otherwise even tone.

"Then why ask?"

Akane didn't respond.

"You love Ranchan too, don't you?"

Ukyou could see the muscles in Akane's neck tighten.

"No way! He's such a... such a..." she stumbled over her reply.

"Oh give me a break, Akane! I know you don't hate him!" Ukyou fairly snapped. "If you tell me, what do you think I'm gonna do, spread it around? What the hell good would that do me?"

Akane's head turned slowly, her hair moving aside like a curtain, revealing an unreadable mix of emotions in her face. But Ukyou could see something in her eyes - and it frightened her.

"You do love him..."

Akane didn't say anything. She looked frightened too. For some reason, this comforted Ukyou. She and Akane were both on the same uncertain ground - equal, at least, in their insecurity.

It was something. Ranchan had forgiven her, after all, and he obviously hadn't given Akane any unequivocal indication of his feelings; Ukyou still had a chance.

"Maybe... we should try to get along. For Ranchan's sake, at least," Ukyou suggested. They had managed to do it before.

After a thoughtful pause, Akane responded, "Not that I really care what Ranma thinks, but... alright.

They both stared at each other for a moment; Ukyou got the sense that they were both at a loss as to how they should feel right now.

"I'm sorry I hit you," she reiterated.

"I know. I'm sorry I acted like such a dummy."

Ukyou discovered she was managing to smile a little.

"Friends?" she offered.

Akane mirrored her half-smile. "Friends."

"This doesn't mean I'm giving up yet," Ukyou said, feeling her smile widen.

Her rival returned her shy grin in kind, but said nothing.

"Right then." Ukyou put forth her hand. Akane took the proffered hand in a strong grip, a glint in her eye.

"May the best girl win," Akane intoned. It was the closest Ukyou had ever heard Akane come to admitting she was actually in the running; a concession, however small and indirect, that she did have some feelings for Ranchan.

Ukyou just shook her head wryly. As far as Ukyou was concerned, Akane had just wished her luck; Ukyou _was_ the best girl. If she cast aside any pretense of modesty, Ukyou knew she was smart, cute, friendly, loyal, and hardworking, and generally treated Ranchan far better than his other so-called fiancée's.

But, even as she counted her blessings and resolved not to give up hope, Ukyou couldn't quite shake one frightening question from her thoughts: what if being the best girl didn't really matter after all?

* * *

It was a beautiful autumn morning in Nerima; the leaves were just beginning to change, and a chorus of birds heralded the break of a new day as dewy dawn gave way to warm sunshine.

It was also Sunday, the day of the dojo open house.

Ranma arose with a feeling of foreboding, wishing it had been raining and dreary - the good weather was obviously wasted on a day as fraught as he dreaded today would be.

Careful not to wake his still snoring panda - er, father - Ranma crept to the window and grabbed his shoes. He'd had the foresight to carry them upstairs the previous night before he went to bed.

Opening the window slowly, Ranma placed his shoes on the sill and swung his legs out, sitting lightly on the sill.

"Going somewhere?" a voice suddenly called from below.

Ranma dropped the shoe he had been about to put on, lost his balance on the precarious window sill, and slid off. His reflexes saved him from an undignified tumble to the ground as he twisted around and grabbed a hold of the window sill with both hands.

"Nabiki!" Ranma yelped in surprise. She was looking up at him from the yard, a smug smile on her face. "Ah, no, course I'm not going anywhere! I'm, uh, just airing out my shoes, that's all! Yeah!" He scrambled back up through the window, slamming it shut behind him. He realized one of his shoes was now squashed in it, and decided he didn't care. No time to worry about it right now. He dashed for the door, almost tripping over a black and white lump - Pop again - and flew down the stairs.

"Ranma! Good morning!"

Ranma skid to a halt.

"M-... Mom!"

Saotome Nodoka was sitting at the table, smiling cheerfully at him.

Ranma just gaped. "When... when did you...?"

"Why so shocked?" Mother asked him. "Didn't Nabiki tell you? She invited me over this morning. Wasn't that sweet of her?"

Nabiki. Ranma should have known. "Sweet. Yeah. That's Nabiki in a nutshell," he said somewhat breathlessly.

Mother just smiled at him, missing or ignoring the thinly veiled irony.

"Look... Mom... I was actually just about to take a walk..."

"Don't you want breakfast? A young martial artist like you needs to eat to keep his strength up."

"Thanks, I'll be fine."

"Oh?" Mother looked disappointed. "But I made it especially."

That was when Ranma noticed the place setting across from his mother. His stomach growled at the sight.

_Damn you, Nabiki._ She had planned this, he knew. Combining two of his only weakness - food, and his mother - to keep him from leaving. It was a plot well worthy of her craftiness, but she hadn't won yet.

Ranma gulped down the food as fast as he could - which meant he was finished in about three seconds - while his mother looked on and smiled benignly, basking in his appreciation of the meal she had prepared for him.

"Thanks, Mom, that was great," Ranma remarked absently as he rose. "Now I'd better get going."

Mother frowned. "Ranma... are you trying to avoid me?"

"I..." Ranma sat. "No, Mother." Inwardly, he continued to curse Nabiki in every way he could think of.

Mother's smile returned. "Good. I get to spend so little time with you; I feel like I should make up for all the time I wasn't there for you these past years."

"That's okay, Mom, you don't need to make it up to me."

Frown. "You mean you don't want to spend time with me?"

"That's not what I meant!"

Smile. "Good. I've been wanting to talk to you."

She paused, looking thoughtful, as if she was planning out what she was going to say.

"Ranma, I'm not going to make you commit seppuku."

Ranma had guessed as much by now, but... he glanced at the wrapped katana propped against his mother's shoulder. "That's... a relief."

Mother's eyes followed his gaze. "I never wanted it to come to that, but I figured your father wouldn't take his responsibility to raise you seriously unless the very real threat of a gruesome death were following at his heels." She patted the katana's cloth wrappings. "I continue to carry this now as a reminder to myself of how foolish I was to let your father take you away from me so young; it is the cross I bear, so to speak." She added, "And I think it helps keep your father in line - as much as is possible anyway."

Ranma was somewhat disturbed by the fact that his mother had managed to explain this all with a straight face - even a trace of a smile toward the very end.

"What I really want to say, Ranma, is I don't think your father did a very good job raising you -"

"_I'll_ say," Ranma interjected.

"- and I feel at fault," his mother finished, then pursed her lips pensively for a moment.

"I think you miss my meaning. I'm relieved that your father hasn't ruined you completely, but you're not quite the son I wish you were - and not nearly half the man I think you could be."

How he was supposed to take that, Ranma wasn't sure, but it didn't exactly sound like a compliment. The "not half the man you could be" part of her statement in particular irked him more than he was willing to show.

"Listen, Mom, if this is about my curse-"

"It's more than just that, Ranma. Your curse I trust you will get rid of as soon as you're able. The rest we will just have to work on."

"Work on _what_?" Ranma questioned impatiently. Mother seemed to be following up her brutally honest opinion of him with attempts to tip-toe around her actual point.

Mother took a breath, as if steeling herself. "Well, to name one thing, you are often very inconsiderate of others. In that way, it appears you are like your father, though your self-centered streak manifests itself in a different way than his does."

"Inconsiderate like how?" Ranma asked, skeptical of the direction the conversation was taking. As far as he was concerned, he was nothing like his father. In fact, years ago, after he'd become fed up with Pop's trickery and acts of cowardice, he had made it a personal goal NOT to be like his father. He thought he'd done a pretty good job so far.

"You speak without considering other people's feelings," his mother replied. "To be fair, you do it a lot."

Ranma looked away. "So what if I do? I don't see how that makes me like Pop."

Mother sighed. "That's not the point, Ranma. Your father is inconsiderate in other ways; that's his problem. The point is, you need to think before you open your mouth and say hurtful or insulting things. If you weren't such a good martial artist, you probably would have gotten the snot beaten out of you a number of times already for some of the things I've heard you say." She paused. "Actually, now that I think about it, you _have_ gotten the snot beaten out of you for some of the things you've said. Mostly by Akane, from what I hear."

"Well it's not like I could hit her back or nothin'. She's a girl after all, even if she is a tomboy," Ranma griped to a paper panel in the dining room door, unable to meet his mother's gaze.

"And of course you couldn't just dodge," Mother said dryly.

"That'd just make her even more angry!"

"Are you saying you let her hit you so she'll feel better?" she asked with a glint in her eye.

Ranma shifted uneasily. How did she know these things when Ranma didn't even know them until she pointed them out?

"Really, Ranma, I'm sure there are less painful ways to curb your feelings of guilt."

Ranma tried to snort at this, but it came out sounding more like a nervous wheeze. "Why should I feel guilty 'bout what I say to some dumb tomboy?" he grumbled.

"I don't know," Mother replied. "You tell me."

Ranma realized he was fidgeting and stopped himself. He didn't much care for his mother's line of questioning.

"Can we maybe... talk about something else?"

His mother gazed at him for a moment in a way that he found inexplicably disconcerting, like she was looking inside of him. "Very well," she relented. "What's this I hear about you teaching classes here at the dojo?"

Ranma grimaced. Not a topic he liked, but probably preferable to the last one.

"Some stupid thing Nabiki came up with," he said. Since he didn't plan on sticking around long enough for anything to come of it, he doubted any further explanation would be necessary.

"Well, I think it's a wonderful idea."

Ranma did a double take. "You... you do?"

"Yes," his mother confirmed. "It should help teach you some maturity and responsibility - two things your father didn't spend much time educating you about. Not that he's at all qualified."

"I'm plenty mature and responsible!" Ranma protested, feeling once again indignant at his mother's words.

"Really?" a chilling voice came from the hallway. "Mature and responsible enough to step outside and greet a few... guests? I'm sure they're all very eager to meet you."

Ranma suddenly felt like his stomach had fallen into the Spring of Drowned Lead Brick. He slowly raised his head to meet Nabiki's gaze.

"All... already?" he stammered ineffectually while a voice in his head kept screaming, _Must get out must get out must get out!_

"Oh, you thought the dojo open house wasn't until this afternoon?" Nabiki smiled. "Sorry; change of plans."

Now there were two voices in his head, one telling him to get out and the other repeatedly cursing Nabiki. Ranma leapt to his feet, ready to make a break for it.

"Ranma."

At his mother's stern tone, he froze in his tracks. He turned slowly to look at her, filled with a sense of dread.

Mother was frowning at him severely. "Let me be very plain with you. If you try to avoid this, I will be very upset." Her tone held no anger, only warning, the quiet emphasis she put on the words "very upset" leaving no room for argument.

_Damn you Nabiki damn you Nabiki damn you Nabiki!_ Using his own mother against him was too cruel for words. Sullenly, his mind almost numb, Ranma followed Nabiki down the hall.

At the foyer, he paused, a glimmer of hope coming to him. He snatched at it.

"Uh... my shoes..."

Nabiki threw down a pair of sandals. His sandals. "Wear these."

Ranma felt his last chance for escape slip through his fingers. It would have been in vain anyway, only postponing the inevitable. Resigning himself, he slipped on the sandals, and stepped to the door.

He placed his hand on the door handle. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought. Sliding it open, he stepped out into the morning light.

Nabiki surveyed the turn-out with satisfaction. A little more than two-dozen people had shown up. She had been worried that the early hour she had set to help her entrap Ranma might discourage some, but she had reminded herself that martial artists were often morning people.

For her own part, Nabiki was decidedly not a morning person. But she had easily set that aside to achieve her goals. Her tenacity and planning had paid off.

The group standing in the Tendou yard was a little more varied than she had anticipated; there was nothing wrong with that, except that it always irked Nabiki when she failed to anticipate something. Thankfully, she reassured herself, it didn't happen very often.

Mostly males, with a healthy smattering of women; much as she had expected, since her advertisement had targeted both groups. Ages ranged from middle to young, with a mix of various martial arts uniforms, exercise outfits, and relaxed street clothes; nothing too unusual, but then there was also a guy wearing some sort of cloak that hid most of his face and body, and even an attractive blue-eyed, blonde- haired kid who definitely wasn't from around here. Everyone else in the group was trying very hard not to stare at him curiously - except for the cloaked man, who seemed quite relaxed, chatting readily enough with anyone who wasn't too intimidated by his tall, dark frame.

"Nabiki-chan? Who are all these people?" Kasumi had just come out of the house and was looking puzzled at the unexpected gathering. "Friends of yours?"

Nabiki had purposely neglected to explain the open house to her older sister for fear that word might get back to Ranma about the time- switch. "Customers," Nabiki answered simply.

(It should be noted that in Japanese, the word for "customer" and the word for "guest" are the same. This may explain some things about Japanese customer service. More relevantly, it may also help explain the below reaction from Kasumi.)

Nabiki could almost see Kasumi's mind shifting into Hostess Mode. She didn't have a Magical Girl Transformation Sequence, but Nabiki had long suspected that that was only because Kasumi would consider such a thing to be flashy and indecent.

"I'd better get the kettle on for tea," Kasumi said, turning back to the house.

"Sis, there's like thirty of them!" Nabiki hissed.

Kasumi paused, apparently considering Nabiki's words. "You're right," she agreed. "I'd better make it two kettles."

Nabiki gave up on trying to dissuade her sister; nothing short of a natural disaster could stop Kasumi once she was in Hostess Mode, and even then it wasn't a sure thing. She'd probably reprimand the disaster for being rude - or else, welcome it and serve it tea. Or both.

The crowd of prospective dupes - er, honored customers - were gazing at her and Ranma expectantly. Ranma seemed to be doing his level best to hide behind his own shadow.

"Welcome to the Tendou Dojo," Nabiki said, making sure to project her voice so everyone would hear. "Thank you all for coming, and thank you for your patience. My name is Tendou Nabiki and I'm the business manager here. You'll need to talk to me about payment and signing up for classes. Now allow me to introduce our senior instructor." She gave Ranma a violent shove in the back and he stumbled forward into the proverbial spotlight - though he acted more like it was the headlight of an oncoming train.

"Ah... I'm Saotome Ranma," he stuttered.

A general murmur arose in the crowd. Perceptive as she was, Nabiki was able to pick out what some of the people were saying.

"That's the sensei?"

"I thought he was just the poster boy."

"But where's the cute redhead? I wanna see the redhead!"

"He's so young!"

"And _hot_!"

"Oh, shut up, Eiko."

"What is this? He's just some kid!"

"I wanna see the redhead!"

"We heard you the first time, Saro."

"Look, these shoes I'm wearing are older than him!"

"Could your shoes teach martial arts better?"

"I bet they could!"

All this Nabiki had anticipated, if not in so many words. But, if she was any judge of people - and she was, she had no qualms admitting - she knew exactly how Ranma would react.

"_Hey!_" Ranma shouted, silencing what had grown into a general hubbub of doubt and even derision. "Are you questioning my abilities?"

"You're damn right we are!" cried the older fellow who'd made the comment about his shoes. "What could a little boy like you know about martial arts?"

"Little boy! Listen up, gramps-"

"Hey, at least he didn't call you a girl," Nabiki cut in. Ranma glared at her. She smiled brightly back at him.

"Alright," Ranma said, turning to the doubtful mob, his voice decisive - commanding even. "Any one of you, or any two of you, or even all of you at once, think you can take me on... then bring it!"

He slid into a fighting stance so quickly and naturally that it seemed like he hadn't moved at all.

No one stepped forward. The man who had been the most vocal before now shrank to the back of the crowd. A lot of nervous looks were exchanged; with each other, with the ground, with a neighbor's shoulder - with anything but the piercing eyes of the young man before them.

The man in the cloak shifted, looking like he was about to say something, when someone stepped forward right in front of him.

"I challenge your right to call yourself 'sensei' of this dojo."

Nabiki studied the challenger with interest. Another unexpected turn of events. This could prove a problem; Ranma didn't fight girls.

Ranma looked like he was about to say something to that effect, but Nabiki kicked him in the foot, and interjected, "Very well, Saotome Ranma-sensei accepts your challenge." She pitched her voice so that it was clear she was talking to everyone, and added, "We will reconvene in the dojo in five minutes." She gestured towards the training hall.

A moment of hesitation followed before the visitors started to drift off in the indicated direction, talking amongst themselves.

"What the hell'd you do that for, Nabiki!" Ranma demanded, rounding on her. "You know I don't fight girls!"

"Well you'd better start," Nabiki returned. "Can you imagine what a wimp you'd look like if you turned down a challenge from a harmless looking girl like her?"

That got him. Ranma's expression hardened. "I ain't gonna enjoy this," he said.

Of course, Nabiki didn't particularly care if he did or not.

* * *

Ranma sized up his opponent dubiously. She couldn't have been much older than him. She wasn't very big - about Akane's height, Ranma estimated, maybe a little shorter and smaller - and she didn't look exceptionally athletic, though he could hardly tell how muscular her limbs were beneath the gi she wore. Her hair was all of a single length, pitch black and shiny, almost luminescent, and she wore it pulled back sleek and tight in a practical ponytail. Her face was quite striking; she had beautifully defined cheek bones and the most perfectly arched eyebrows that Ranma had ever seen. But mostly it was her cool, unreadable expression, radiating confidence and a fighting spirit that belied an appearance that Ranma might have otherwise written off as ordinary-cute-girl-ish.

Pop stood off to Ranma's right, having been co-opted by Nabiki for the role of moderator. He gripped Ranma's shoulder from behind.

"Nabiki wants this to look professional," he confided. "So I'm going to call out the orders to begin and end the fight. Don't let yourself get carried away, either, that girl might not be able to take a direct hit from the likes of you."

"Don't worry," Ranma assured him. "I got it covered."

His father seemed to take him at his word, nodded, and stepped back.

"First one to take a fall, or take three direct hits to the torso or head, loses the match," Pop announced for all to hear. He paused, then let loose a bellow in appropriate dojo-style. "Bow to each other!"

Ranma bowed, as did his opponent, then stood ready.

"Hajime!" Pop called, signaling the start of the match.

Ranma put his arms behind his back and stood casually. Anger flared in the girls eyes, and she charged him.

"_Ei!_" She let fly a roundhouse kick at the side of his head. He brought his arm up and around just at the last second, catching her foot in one hand.

From this position, he could easily flip her onto her back. Instead he just stood there for a second, looking his opponent in the eye. She glared back at him. Ranma let slip a smirk, and released her foot. She immediately followed up with a series of punches, aimed for his torso and face - he made sure they all struck empty air.

With a twist of her hips, she rocketed a classic karate reverse punch at his stomach. Well executed - but he caught her fist and used the momentum of her punch and her turning hips to spin her around so she was facing away from him. Reaching his arms under hers, he linked his hands together behind her neck in a full-nelson, and lifted her bodily off the ground. She flailed her legs wildly, unable to break his hold.

Ranma had said he wouldn't enjoy this, but he found himself smirking a bit for the second time; this was actually kind of amusing.

Then a shin collided with his forehead.

As he dropped the girl and stumbled back a few paces, he realized that he should have seen that one coming. With his head just over her shoulder, he'd put himself in a prime position to be kicked - assuming his opponent was highly flexible, which apparently she was.

"Call it! Call the hit!" some of Nabiki's "customers" were yelling.

"Glancing blow! Doesn't count!" Pop ruled.

Ranma's opponent made a face, but didn't protest the call.

"You'd better start taking me seriously or you're gonna get hurt," she warned him as they faced off again.

True, if he let himself get careless again, he might get a bruise or two. But if he started taking the fight seriously, she might get hurt for real.

_Nothing for it,_ Ranma thought. _Better end this now._

Gritting his teeth at what he was about to do, Ranma very carefully judged the distance.

"Tenchin Amaguriken!" Three punches landed in rapid succession on the girls upper chest - he was careful to avoid any sensitive areas - and Ranma stepped back, relieved she hadn't moved unexpectedly.

"Yame!" Pop cried, ending the match. "Ranma wins!"

Ranma's opponent stood stunned. "But... he barely tapped me!"

"If he'd done more than that, you'd be lucky to be alive," Pop explained.

Giving Ranma a look that was a strange mix of loathing and respect, the challenger stalked back to join the others at the far end of the dojo. She didn't get halfway there before Kasumi stopped her.

"Would you care for some tea, Guest-san?"

The girl just blinked.

Ranma surveyed the small crowd of potential students, most of whom were looking slightly bemused - either at the match they had just witnessed or at Kasumi and her ceaseless ministrations and offers of tea. He looked over to where Nabiki stood on the sidelines with a clipboard. She gave him a nod.

_Maybe this teaching thing ain't gonna be so bad?_ he thought. After all, what could be better than showing a bunch of people what a great martial artist he was? It seemed to him like knowledge well worth sharing. And who knew? Maybe one of these "students" would prove a decent challenge.

* * *

Emi was not happy. _What an arrogant jerk-wad!_ She made a bee-line for the main gate, which had been left standing halfway open. Who did that Saotome guy think he was anyway?

She was about to stride out the front entrance in a huff, when a girl in running shorts and a tank top came jogging in and nearly ran into her.

"Oh!" the girl said in surprise. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Emi returned.

The girl looked to be high-school age, and she had a cute little upturned nose set in a cute heart-shaped face framed by dark hair cut in a practical but cute shorter style. Actually, Emi thought that the word "cute" summarized this girl's appearance quite well - not a sickly- sweet kind of cute, but an attractive, blossoming-womanhood kind.

"If you're here for the dojo open house, everyone's in the training hall," Emi said politely.

"Oh, no," the girl corrected her. "I'm not here for the open house. I live here."

Emi felt herself flush slightly with embarrassment. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry."

The girl smiled warmly. "Don't be. I'm Tendou Akane. What's your name?"

Emi found herself smiling back. "Emi. Sakai Emi."

"You're here for the open house then?"

Emi nodded.

"How's that going? Are you done already?"

Emi grimaced. "I didn't really feel like hanging around after what that Saotome bastard did to me."

Akane's eyes widened, "You mean Ranma?"

Emi was surprised at the familiar form of address, then realized belatedly that she might have just insulted a close friend or relative. She was about to spout as much apologetic language as she could, hoping she hadn't horribly offended this girl who was effectively her host, when Akane's eyes flashed with wrath that was definitely not directed at Emi herself.

"Did Ranma do something perverted to you?" She slammed her fist into her palm. "I oughta pound his face!"

"What? You mean he's a pervert too?" Emi blurted. "And here I thought he was just an arrogant jerk!"

"He is a jerk!" Akane confirmed angrily. But then the fire fell from her eyes, and she looked away. "But... he's not such a bad guy, most of the time. Once you get to know him."

Emi wasn't at all sure that made any sense. She decided not to ask for clarification.

"All I know is he wouldn't fight me seriously," Emi said. "And that pissed me off, even more than his macho attitude did."

Akane nodded knowingly. "He doesn't fight girls. Some sort of honor thing I guess. It's stupid if you ask me."

Emi tried to imagine the self-satisfied prick she had just faced off against having anything resembling honor. "I thought he was just toying with me out of spite. But you say he just doesn't fight girls?"

Akane shrugged. "I gave up trying to spar with him ages ago; he just avoids all of my attacks and won't fight back."

"I managed to get one hit in on him." Emi grimaced again. "But the moderating instructor said it didn't count."

"You got a hit in against Ranma?" Akane asked, looking duly impressed. "That's hard. You must be really good."

"Well it's not like he's invincible," Emi said, shying away from the praise. "He got careless because he wasn't taking me seriously as an opponent. I'm sure you could get a hit in against him too, if you tried." Of course, Emi didn't really know what Akane's skill level was.

Akane was frowning thoughtfully. "It's funny," she remarked. "When we're sparring I can never touch him. But then sometimes I just get so _angry_ at him that I go to hit him - and he doesn't dodge." She paused, looking puzzled. "I wonder why that is? Do I get better when I'm angry? I mean, he wouldn't just _let_ me hit him, would he?"

"Not unless he's a masochist," Emi offered.

The glint of anger lit in Akane's eyes once again. "That... that _pervert_!" She cracked her knuckles. "Masochism! That's sick! Next time I see him, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." she trailed off, looking at her fists. "Hmm... maybe I'd better not."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"He is... he is really good, though," Emi forced herself to admit, in an attempt to steer the conversation back in a less weird direction.

"He's amazingly good," Akane agreed. Emi could see the deep admiration in her eyes. "Even if he is a stupid jerk sometimes." If Emi didn't know any better, she could have sworn this last part was said with a hint of affection.

Emi considered carefully. Even as a child, she had always been a harsh judge of teachers - sometimes vocally, before she learned better - especially when she felt they weren't explaining things well. The thought that she could do better was what had first prompted her to pursue the path of becoming a teacher herself. Was she falling back into old habits, being overly critical of yet another sensei?

Maybe this Saotome clown was just a perverted, masochistic, arrogant bastard. But if he was the sort of person who inspired as much respect for his martial arts abilities as Akane seemed to show, even though she expressed such a negative opinion of him otherwise, maybe he would make a decent sensei anyway.

* * *

Nabiki watched the proceedings with growing enjoyment, not so much for the showcase of martial arts, but for the obvious success of her plan. Ranma and Uncle Saotome had agreed that Ranma should test the skill of each student who had had any prior martial arts training, to judge what class level they should be placed in. With each passing moment, more visitors, many of whom hadn't even tested into a class level yet, approached Nabiki to sign up. She could practically hear the money rolling in. Why hadn't she come up with this idea sooner?

Two men who had been whispering to each other conspiratorially suddenly rushed at Ranma from the crowd. Ranma dropped down, grabbing each attacker around the knees and flipping them over his shoulders as he stood. They both landed hard on their backs alongside him, the wind knocked completely out of them.

"Yo, Ucchan!" Ranma called, waving toward the doorway as though nothing had just happened. Nabiki looked over to see Ukyou step inside.

Ukyou waved back with a smile, glanced around, and casually sidled up next to Nabiki.

"Ukyou," Nabiki acknowledged her evenly.

"Nabiki," Ukyou returned the greeting, with a nod.

Nabiki waited for Ukyou to speak.

"Thanks for helping me with Ranchan," Ukyou finally said. "I... guess I just needed a little push in the right direction."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Nabiki replied, then gave a wry smile. "Sorry things didn't go perfect to plan."

"That's okay. It wasn't your fault Akane showed up."

Nabiki accepted this fact with a gesture of her open hand.

"You know, I didn't really mean what I said about you before..." Ukyou admitted. "I don't really hope you die in your own feces."

"Really? That's good to hear. And you don't actually think I'm a... what was it?" Nabiki paused, trying to recall. "A manipulative-?"

"A miserable, manipulative, money-grubbing hobag-bitch?" Ukyou offered helpfully. "Oh, I stand by that. I just won't hold it against you quite so much in the future."

"I'm touched," Nabiki said dryly.

"Who's this guy?" Ukyou jerked her chin at the blonde-haired foreigner that Ranma was now facing off against.

"Who knows?" Nabiki replied. He was about the same age as Nabiki, she guessed, and wore his hair long, with a red strip of cloth tied around his forehead, presumably to keep the hair out of his face, the trailing ends of the headband falling down his back, even with the length of his hair. Nabiki also noted that his shirt said, "I'm a movie star," in English. His handsome mouth was half quirked into a smile as he brandished a bokken. Maybe this was the guy who had called the other day about kendo; but Kasumi hadn't mentioned anything about a foreign accent, so probably not.

"His style is odd," Ukyou commented as the test/match commenced. "It looks like normal kendo but... see, he just swung his sword around himself in a figure eight pattern, like something out of a kung-fu movie."

Ukyou was right. The young foreigner seemed to incorporate some distinctly Chinese-looking moves into his kendo. Ranma was easily dodging his strikes, but the kid had a pretty decent defense going.

"Should they even be letting him use a bokken?" Ukyou wondered. "I mean, Ranchan's an expert in unarmed styles, but if this foreign kid is actually gonna be training here, Ranma couldn't really teach him much about how to use a bokken."

Nabiki shrugged. "He's probably just some crazy tourist. He'll get whatever kicks he came for and be on his way."

With one swift move, Ranma disarmed his opponent. "Gotcha!" he cried, lunging forward. To Nabiki's surprise, and evidently Ranma's as well, the foreigner just rolled around the outside edge of Ranma's punch like a rag-doll, ending his spin with a backfist to the temple that caught Ranma completely off-guard. As Ranma staggered, his opponent danced away, cranked his foot back like a spring, and launched a kick into Ranma's unprotected flank, sending him flying to the dojo wall.

The foreigner turned and winked broadly at Nabiki and Ukyou with one blue eye, grinning.

"Pay attention!" Ranma yelled with a well-placed foot to the back of his opponent's head, knocking him flat.

"Yame!" called Uncle Saotome.

"Looks like he got all the kicks he could take," Ukyou commented.

But the blonde foreigner just picked himself up, and dusted himself off as if unfazed. "Ladies," he said, favoring them with a bow, and then turned and headed straight for Kasumi, who was just coming back with yet another tray of tea.

"Impudent. But he seems pretty tough," Nabiki noted off-handedly. "Good thing too, or that last kick might have put him in the hospital." She didn't want to think about the implications of possibly uninsured tourists sustaining injury at the dojo.

"Enough of this," Ranma suddenly announced to the dojo, all eyes turning to him. He pointed at the cloaked figure who had been so far unable or unwilling to break away from Kasumi's attempts to make him and everyone else feel very welcome and comfortable. "You in the funny cape. Show me what you got."

The cloaked man pointed at himself, incredulously. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!" Ranma shot back. "I'm tired of fighting these wi- hey!" Nabiki's pencil bounced off his ear.

"Nice shot," Ukyou complimented her.

"Thanks," she replied demurely.

The man in the cloak sat cross-legged on the dojo floor, sipping his tea thoughtfully. He placed it aside on the nearby tray, thanked Kasumi, and stood, linking his fingers together and stretching his arms up over his head. "I don't really have the monetary means to sign up for classes, but I guess I could go for a little friendly practice match. I could hardly refuse, after your gracious hospitality."

He moved his hands down, and pulled back his hood.

Then silence reigned in the training hall.

* * *

Ranma noted the stares the tall stranger was recieving from the onlookers in the dojo, but didn't really understand them. The man, an old guy who Ranma guessed was at least in his twenties, had a fairly ordinary face as near as Ranma could tell - no hideous boils or contusions, no disfiguring scars. In fact, the man's piercing dark eyes were framed by decidedly unmarred features; very formed and exact, kind of like a marble statue. His hair was tied back out of the way in a sort of top-knot-ponytail, high and in back. Long black hair arced up and away from his head like a stream of water, falling behind and ending at shoulder level several centimeters from his spine. Ranma decided to mentally compare it to a rooster's tail. He vastly preferred that analogy to the stream of water that had initially come to mind; it was funnier, and a lot less threatening.

It was mostly girls who were staring, so maybe this guy's face was just the sort that made girls gawk stupidly. Ranma didn't know, or particularly care. He didn't consider himself a good judge of male magnetism - except for his own, which was of course flawless.

The guy had an annoying smile on his face; annoying because it showed no hint of fear or hesitation, just a general open readiness, with a hint of anticipation. _Damn arrogant bastard,_ Ranma thought to himself. The rooster's tail suited him.

"My name is Kouryuu," the man was saying. "I practice a style called the Toukai-ken."

"Hmm..." Pop stepped forward, looking pensive.

Both combatants turned to look at him. "You've heard of it, Pop?" Ranma asked.

Pop shook his head. "Toukai. As in the Eastern Sea," Pop turned to Ranma. "Be careful, boy! His attacks contain the very strength of the raging sea!"

"Um... not quite," Kouryuu corrected.

Pop looked thoughtful again. "I see. Then, it must be Toukai as in destruction and collapse!"

"No..."

"Aha! The Toukaidou Train Line!" Pop pointed emphatically. "You strike with all the swiftness and power of a bullet train!"

"No!" Kouryuu cut in, looking annoyed. "Toukai as in _hidden_."

"Hidden-fist, huh?" Ranma said, tasting the words as he considered their meaning. "Does it involve chains and claws, and the occasional duck-shaped training potty?"

Kouryuu raised a brow quizzically. "I can only assume you are referring to the Jouketsuzoku hidden-weapons technique. I'm impressed that you know of such an obscure technique, but no, my style is unrelated. I only fight unarmed."

"Whatever," Ranma waved it aside. "Let's do this."

"As you wish," Kouryuu replied evenly. "A friendly match then."

Ranma felt one corner of his mouth quirk up in an anticipatory smile as they faced off across the dojo floor. "Friendly. Right."

End Part I

* * *

Author's Note/Warning: As you may have figured out by now, this story contains a few new characters that I came up with - or who sprung full formed from my brow like Athena and jumped into the story without so much as a "by your leave," in the case of at least one of them. I seem to be incapable of writing anything that doesn't contain new characters. If you don't like these interlopers, feel free to go read a different Ranma fanfic; I'm sure it'll suck just as much as this one does. ^_^


	2. Part II: Tea and Conversation

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other copyright holders who are not me. All obnoxious original characters in this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

* * *

**Spring of Drowned Dojo**  
_The Life and Times of an Aquatransexual Martial Arts Instructor _

A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions  
written by Ambulatory Kettle

* * *

Part II: Tea and Conversation

Pop stepped back and raised his voice so that it echoed through the dojo. "Bow to each other!"

Kouryuu bowed; Ranma did likewise, and slipped into a ready stance. His opponent just stood.

Movement near the dojo entrance caught a corner of Ranma's attention. He saw Akane entering the dojo along with the girl who had challenged him earlier. If seeing them come in together wasn't disconcerting enough, when they noticed his gaze both girls looked away and turned their noses up in distaste like mirror images of each other.

He didn't even want to think about what that meant. He couldn't afford to let himself get distracted. Still, he felt slightly shaken as he returned his attention to his new opponent.

Ranma waited for the signal; either Pop was letting the tension build, or was waiting for this Kouryuu guy to shift into some sort of readiness. Kouryuu didn't budge.

"Hajime!"

Before Ranma could make his move, the man rushed at him - no, past him. Ranma kicked out to catch Kouryuu as he blurred by on Ranma's left, but his opponent ducked under his leg.

Then Ranma felt something smash into the OTHER side of his head. He turned just in time to see a retreating foot out of the corner of his eye. He spun around, realizing that after ducking under Ranma's leg and past him, Kouryuu had somehow hooked a back-kick around to Ranma's unguarded right side.

As Ranma spun around, his opponent had twisted around to face him as well - but Kouryuu's momentum was carrying him off-balance, toppling over backwards. Suddenly Kouryuu's legs kicked out and scissored at Ranma's feet from either side. Already unbalanced from a combination of surprise and the recent kick to his head, it took all Ranma had to keep himself upright.

_A feint!_ Ranma realized. Kouryuu wasn't falling - he was attacking!

Kouryuu put out an arm and turned his backward fall into a one- handed back-hand spring. Ranma barely managed to block a rising succession of unexpected kicks that Kouryuu shot out almost casually as he flipped away and landed just out of reach, his cloak swirling.

_Damn, this guy's pretty good!_

Ranma charged him - and discovered he was suddenly flipping forward, head-over-heels. Kouryuu had used his own momentum against him. Ranma tucked himself into a roll, came up out of it - and smashed his face straight into an elbow.

"Chikusho!" he cursed.

Suddenly, punches were coming at him out of nowhere.

"Yame!" Pop called out, and Kouryuu stepped away.

"Like hell!" Ranma bellowed, bouncing up, then off the wall and leaping at his opponent. "Tenshin Amaguriken!"

Kouryuu managed to block or evade a surprising number of the high- speed strikes, but several slipped through his defenses.

The combatants separated for a moment.

"The chest-nut fist. Very impressive," Kouryuu commented.

Pop looked indignant. "Um... did I not just say 'yame'?"

"This ends when I say it ends," Ranma growled.

Kouryuu smiled. "Very well." He charged in.

Ranma was ready for him, but Kouryuu might as well have been taking a stroll in the park for all Ranma could interpret about his movements. Three hard punches struck Ranma's torso, winding him before he was able to get out of the way. _Why can't I read any of his moves!_

Suddenly, Ranma knew the answer.

_Time for a little Umisen-ken._ He told himself he'd never use that forbidden art again, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

_In under the floorboards._ As Kouryuu came at him again, Ranma ducked down and twisted around onto his back, slipping in under his opponents guard and between his feet, which he knocked apart with his own feet, disrupting Kouryuu's stance.

A fist struck Ranma's solar plexus from above - again seeming to come out of nowhere - slamming him into the floor, but it didn't matter. He grabbed the trailing edge of Kouryuu's cloak and lashed out with both feet, catching his opponent in the stomach and launching him into an unplanned back-flip. A loud tearing sound rent the air.

Kouryuu landed on his feet a several meters away. Ranma hopped up, ready for a retaliation. Without his cloak, Ranma could now see that Kouryuu was wearing a dark green Chinese shirt, of a different style than those Ranma usually wore, with more prominent clasp-strings, and very plain, unpleated hakama, faded black or charcoal in hue.

"Damn," Kouryuu said, almost casually. "I really liked that cloak, too."

Ranma dropped the ruined cloak on the dojo floor. "Too bad."

"Ah, well," Kouryuu shrugged. "It's against my principles to show too much attachment to material things. Shall we call it quits for today?"

Ranma smirked. Was he conceding? "Alright then. Yame."

Kouryuu gave a nod, seeming to acknowledge both the end of the match and his opponent's skill. "I didn't lose though."

Ranma didn't like the sound of that. "You tryin' to say you won?"

"No," Kouryuu assured him. "I'm just saying I didn't lose."

Ranma felt his smirk returning, and realized Kouryuu seemed to be sharing in it, despite his placid expression.

"We'll call it a draw then," Ranma offered. "But it was just a practice match, so it didn't really _count_ or nothin'."

Now Kouryuu broke into a grin. "My thoughts exactly."

"I'm glad we could come to this agreement," Nabiki said with a hint of irony as she approached them. "Kouryuu-san, was it? You say you won't be signing up for classes because you... lack the means to pay?"

Ranma wondered why she was even bothering to ask him about it - or bothering to even talk to him at all, since clearly he wasn't a source of money.

"That's correct," Kouryuu confirmed.

In spite of himself, Ranma couldn't help thinking it was a shame that the guy wouldn't be coming back. He'd like to see a bit more of Kouryuu's moves. He probably hadn't had a good one-on-one sparring match like that since the last time he'd sparred with Ryouga when Ryouga wasn't actually trying to kill him.

"I've... taken a vow of poverty," Kouryuu continued. "I'm really just passing through; I probably won't be here this time next week, or even this time tomorrow."

Just passing through, huh? Maybe Kouryuu was more like Ryouga than Ranma had thought. For the guy's own sake, Ranma hoped he wasn't.

"Where are you headed?" Nabiki probed.

Kouryuu shrugged. "Nowhere in particular. Just traveling."

"Are you planning on heading back home any time soon?"

"Ah... no. Not... ever, actually."

To her credit, Nabiki looked slightly chagrined at asking a question that may have been a little too personal. However, being Nabiki, it didn't dissuade or derail her.

"Why not stay here?"

Ranma blinked. After all this time complaining about so-called free-loaders, was Nabiki inviting another one to stay with them? Ranma looked between Nabiki and the surprised man before her, who seemed as much at a loss for words as Ranma himself was, and then back to Nabiki. He couldn't read anything on her face except pure business, but Ranma couldn't help wondering... he had attracted some stares, but maybe the sight of Kouryuu actually made girls go completely bonkers? Ranma didn't particularly like the thought that such power could be possessed by anyone - other than himself, of course.

"You could stay here and help teach classes. We can provide you room and board, and three meals a day." She smiled. "And of course, to honor your vow of poverty, no extra pay need be included."

Or then again, maybe it was just business. But one thing about Nabiki's offer irked Ranma.

"Hey, what makes you think I need help teaching classes?"

Nabiki turned to him, a put-upon look on her face, as if she were having to explain the obvious to a particularly slow child. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're a little short on instructors. I'd be a lot happier if there were six of you, but we can make do with three - right now we've got barely two at best."

Ranma was pretty sure he knew who merited the "barely" - no pun intended. Pop was just now officiously lecturing the prospective students - probably without having any idea what he was talking about. Maybe his inscrutable-sensei act would work on some of them and they'd be encouraged to sign up.

Idly, Ranma wondered how Nabiki had gotten Pop to show up in the first place, considering the usual allergic reaction he displayed when faced with most forms of honest work. Ranma suspected that Mom had had something to do with it.

"What about Uncle?" Ranma asked Nabiki.

Nabiki shook her head. "I don't think Daddy's up to the task. Not just yet, anyway."

Before Ranma could question this, Kouryuu cleared his throat, interrupting.

"Ahem... Tendou... Nabiki-san, isn't it? I humbly accept your kind offer. For the time being, at least."

"Great!" Nabiki beamed. She flipped through some pages on her clipboard, stopped on one, and turned the clipboard towards Kouryuu, holding several sheets back to expose a horizontal line at the very bottom of one page. "Just sign here," she said, handing him a pen, "and the terms of your employ will be all set."

Kouryuu took the offered pen, nodding graciously, and was about to set it to paper, when a slight frown creased his forehead. He lifted the top pages on the clipboard out of the way.

"Um... this is a contract stating that the signer will obey your every whim without question."

"Oh? Really?" Nabiki asked innocently. She took the clipboard back and looked at it as though surprised, putting a finger to one cheek. "How did that get in there, I wonder?"

* * *

"Okay, those of you with experience, pair off for some one-on-one practice for now! The rest of you with me!"

Ukyou pouted ever so slightly at these words, which Ranchan had so casually shouted out across the dojo. Why did he have to cut himself out of the running for training partners? After all, Ranchan wasn't good about taking girl opponents seriously; she could have used that fact to make some... fortuitous tackle-moves. Not exactly her style - more of a Shampoo-tactic - but it seemed worth a shot. Ukyou just sighed and leaned back against the wall to wait for Ranchan to finish.

A series of nervous male students wandered over towards her, each inevitably asking her if she wanted to spar with them. Ukyou politely declined their offers, feeling like she was at a high school dance, sans bad music.

"I like your spatula," someone said.

She turned to see the foreigner with the long blonde hair who she had seen testing earlier - Ukyou couldn't detect any hint of a foreign accent in his Japanese, and she was nearly surprised dumb by the incongruity of this with his distinctly Western features.

"Wha...?" she managed to get out.

"You're carrying a giant spatula on your back," the youth said, pointing with his bokken. "I like that. Do you cook?"

"Yes," Ukyou replied, regaining her voice, though her mind was still racing slightly to catch up. She had never spoken to a Westerner before.

He smiled. "You do? I like that even better. Want to spar?"

She tried to give him an icy stare, but wasn't sure it worked, since she was still somewhat befuddled by his apparent fluency in Japanese - his accent sounded vaguely West Honshuu, like Hiroshima.

"You _are_ a martial artist, aren't you?" he asked when she didn't respond immediately. "I mean, you look like one to me."

What was that supposed to mean?

"How... how can you tell?" she asked.

"Tell what? That you're a martial artist? Easy. For one thing, you're carrying a giant spatula," he pointed again at the battle spatula strapped to her back, "and for another thing, you're standing in a dojo. Plus, you hold yourself like a martial artist. You've got that certain grace to you."

The foreigner's familiar attitude was starting to wear on Ukyou's nerves. She understood that a lot of foreigners tended to be forward, but that didn't mean she had to put up with it.

"Fine," she said shortly. "I'll fight you." She unslung her battle spatula. "Ready? Good!" She took a big swing at him, but not at full speed, hoping to scare him off more than anything.

"Hey, careful! You could hurt someone with that thing," he remarked as he jumped over the swing.

"That's the idea!" Ukyou swung again.

"So... what happens if I do this?" With a flick of his bokken, the foreigner sent Ukyou's battle spatula spinning away. Several sparring students had to leap out of the way as the weapon struck the dojo floor with a loud _THOCK_, and stood quivering.

"Hey!" Ranchan shouted from where he and his father were instructing the rank-and-file of novices in some martial arts basics.

"No weapons in the dojo, young lady!" his father reprimanded her. "Armed fighting has to be taken outside."

Ranchan went to pull the spatula out of the floor. "Ucchan, what're you doing, tryin' t'kill somebody?"

"And we just had that floor refinished, you know!" Nabiki added.

While she hardly cared what Nabiki or the old man said, Ukyou was stung by the reproach in Ranchan's voice. Her temper flared. "You jackass!" she snarled at her opponent, drawing two hand-spatulas and rushing at him.

"I think those count as weapons," he commented as he blocked her strikes with his bokken. Ukyou stepped back, suddenly realizing that this foreigner was no push-over.

"You should probably stop," he recommended, almost casually.

"Like hell!" Ukyou redoubled her efforts. Then a giant spatula smashed down on the foreigner's head, slamming him to the floor.

"Owie," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the spatula.

Ranma stood at the other end of Ukyou's weapon. He shouldered it. "Ucchan, we can't have spatulas flying around the dojo. Somebody's gonna get hurt."

"Lawsuits for that come out of _your_ hide, Ukyou," Nabiki remarked as she came up and joined the discussion - uninvited, Ukyou noted. "Or else they come out of Ranma-kun's hide -"

"Hey! Why _me_!" Ranchan protested indignantly.

"- and we both know you don't want that," Nabiki finished, ignoring Ranchan as she stared at Ukyou pointedly.

Ukyou just gritted her teeth. "But, this weirdo here...!"

"Weirdo?" Aforesaid weirdo was picking himself up off the floorboards. "Who's a weirdo? All I said was 'I like your spatula, wanna spar?' It wasn't like it was a come on or some kind of indecent proposal. It's not like I said, 'Hey, cutie! Nice shoes, wanna -'"

_Whap!_

"'... psopshickle...?'" he slurred through the hand-spatula plastered to his cheek.

Ranchan held Ukyou's battle spatula before him. "Anyway, Ucchan, try this." With a flick of his wrist, he sliced Ukyou's bandoleer of spatulas from her shoulders and disarmed both her hands - and accidentally gave Ukyou's opponent a giant-spatula-uppercut to the chin in the process.

"Oop - sorry 'bout that. I'm not used to this thing."

"No prob," the foreigner replied from the floor.

"Now," Ranchan turned to Ukyou, shouldering the spatula again. "Come at me."

"But..." Ukyou just stared at Ranchan, feeling helpless.

Ranchan leveled the battle spatula at her. "My point exactly." He tossed it aside with a clatter, and kicked the remains of her bandoleer away to join it. "You can't be dependant on these things." Ukyou felt that maybe he was taking his new "sensei" role a little too seriously.

"Your style is completely weapon-based. You need to learn some unarmed defense, or you'll be helpless if you're ever caught without your weapons," he said. He turned and lightly kicked the still prone foreigner in the head to get his attention. "Hey, you, foreign kid."

"He probably has a name, you know," Nabiki quipped dryly.

The blonde young man was upright in an instant. "I am Preston," he said, bowing. He flashed Nabiki a grin; she frowned at him. He did seem to be remarkably resilient - and impudent, as Nabiki had pointed out before.

"Preston-kun," Ranchan addressed him. "You're Ucchan's senpai, so help her work on unarmed combat, especially defense."

Ukyou eyed the young man who called himself Preston. She did not like the thought that this foreign idiot was her superior in the martial arts. But... Ranchan had tested him, so he should know.

Ranchan considered her thoughtfully. "Start with... standing."

"Can do, sensei sir," Preston replied enthusiastically with a sharp salute.

"Ranchan!" Ukyou objected. "I _know_ how to _stand_!"

"Oh, really?" Ranchan challenged. A swift movement of one of his legs, and Ukyou's feet were swept out from under her. Ranchan caught her deftly in his arms before she even started to fall. Her surprise was only momentary, and then she let herself relax comfortably into Ranchan's strong arms. She felt her cheeks flush at the thought of his closeness; at the same time, she reveled in the sensation.

"If you're going to start attending classes here," Nabiki rudely intruded on Ukyou's moment of bliss, "how are you planning to pay? I know you don't have the money right now."

Ranchan frowned dangerously. "Ain't nobody gonna charge Ucchan nothin'." Ukyou felt her heart soar at his impassioned defense.

Nabiki just pursed her lips.

Ranchan did not waver. "We'll call it repaying her for all the free meals she's given me in the past," he said in an even tone that nonetheless brooked little argument.

Nabiki didn't look happy with that, but she seemed to shrug it off. "Whatever," she said. Ukyou suspected that Nabiki would work some way to get what she wanted out of the situation.

"Any more arguments?" he asked generally.

No one said anything. Ukyou shook her head dumbly. Hell, if he was going to hold her in his arms, she'd agree to anything. She tried to snuggle closer to him, and felt herself fill with overwhelming happiness.

Then Ranchan handed her to Preston, who, even though he received her gently enough, one arm supporting her back, one arm hooked under her knees, somehow managed to spill all the happiness on the dojo floor.

Ranchan nodded emphatically and strode off, back to his teaching.

"Put me down, you dolt!" Ukyou snapped.

Obligingly, Preston dropped her. She glared up at him.

"Well, looks like you know how to land after a fall. Ucchan, is it?"

"That's _Kuonji-san_ to you, jackass!"

Preston grinned. "We're gonna be great friends."

* * *

Akane sat on the dojo floor next to Emi, both of them breathing heavily. They had gone outside to spar and had just retreated back to the shade of the training hall.

"You're good," Emi huffed.

"Thanks. But I'm nowhere as good as you."

"Oh, that's not the case," Emi demurred, but Akane felt she was being overly modest.

They paused awhile for breath.

"I have to admit, that fight earlier was really impressive," Emi remarked.

Akane looked at her questioningly.

Emi nodded towards Ranma and Kouryuu.

"Oh, that?" Akane thought about it for a moment. "I guess. For a short sparring match."

Emi just looked at her blankly for a moment, obviously trying to fathom her unenthusiastic response. Akane had to remind herself that not everyone had witnessed a REAL fight between Ranma and a skilled opponent.

"Um... that Kouryuu guy seems really good though, doesn't he?" Akane said, grasping for something to break the pause that was threatening to lapse into an awkward silence.

"He certainly does," Emi agreed, eyeing the young man appraisingly from across the dojo where he stood conversing with Ranma. "I couldn't see where any of his strikes were coming from. But I guess that's why he calls his technique the hidden-fist."

She paused, still watching Kouryuu. Akane wondered for a moment if maybe she was admiring his striking appearance. Akane could hardly blame her; the man's intense, classical features, like some Asiatic incarnation of a Greek statue, and his unusual eyes with their hawk-like gaze, were, needless to say, arresting. But, from the serious analytical look in Emi's eyes, Akane couldn't be sure that the other girl had even _noticed_ Kouryuu's good looks.

"He seemed to have a good defense up as well," Emi commented. "I'm surprised Saotome...-sensei was able to get in under his guard like he did at the end there."

"Well, Ranchan _is_ good," a new voice said. "The best, really."

"Ukyou! When did you get here?" Akane greeted her in surprise. She stood, and Emi followed suit.

"Oh, I've been here for awhile now," Ukyou replied with a smile. She must have just finished sparring as well, because she looked about the same as Akane felt: sweaty and tired, but fairly content.

Ukyou turned to Emi. "Sorry for jumping into your conversation like that without introducing myself. I'm Kuonji Ukyou. I'm Ranchan's, er, Saotome-sensei's -" she glanced at Akane "- fiancée. I'm pleased to meet you." She bowed.

Emi returned the bow, somewhat stiffly. "Sakai Emi. I'm pleased to meet you as well," she replied, but her voice was flat, indicating no pleasure at all. Akane realized that Ukyou introducing herself as Ranma's fiancée had probably not endeared her to Emi. Akane felt it was sufficient and well-deserved karmic justice against Ukyou for trying to lay claim to the title - and by extension, to Ranma.

Ukyou didn't seem to notice Emi's somewhat cold reception of her. She smiled distractedly at Emi, and then turned to Akane.

A look of melancholy seeped into her smile. "Akane... I realized I'd never apologized to you for... for ruining your wedding like I did."

Akane smiled, though it felt a little forced. "Hey, c'mon I thought we already had this conversation. We agreed to be friends, right?"

"I know," Ukyou said, still looking slightly downcast. "But I just wanted to say... I'm sorry."

She did seem genuinely sorry - even if not really on account of Akane herself. "Well, it's all behind us now, right? And you weren't the only one who sabotaged things." Akane felt her smile go sour. "A whole lot of people had a hand in that." Ranma himself hadn't been too helpful, she recalled.

Ukyou nodded, looking grateful for Akane's understanding. Then she gave a quick bob of her head and shoulders to Emi, taking her leave, and headed over to where Ranma and Kouryuu seemed to be animatedly discussing the best way to counter some move - or bash someone's brains in, or something. Several different plans for stopping Ukyou from actually reaching Ranma flitted briefly through Akane's mind, but she squelched them with extreme prejudice. If Ranma really wanted to be with Ukyou, fine. It was none of Akane's business.

She blinked several times rapidly - stupid eyes, watering for no reason. She didn't care what Ranma did. She might beat the living crap out of him if he showed any signs of choosing Ukyou, but that didn't mean she cared.

Akane realized that Emi was giving her a somewhat bemused look. "You're married?"

"What? No!"

Emi just looked more puzzled. "But, she said... about your wedding..."

"Oh." Right. That. "It... got postponed."

"Oh," Emi echoed. "I'm sorry."

Akane shook her head, not sure if she was accepting Emi's sympathy or denying that she needed any. "The wedding, um... kind of got wrecked," Akane explained. "And... I'm not sure we were really..." she couldn't complete her sentence. She wanted to add the words "right for each other," but couldn't bring herself to. She tried not to glance across the dojo at Ranma.

"Hmm?" Emi prompted, her gaze open and attentive.

"I'm not sure we were really... ready," Akane finished.

"But you do have a fiancé?"

Akane wondered when she had started blushing. Apparently Emi noticed something as well.

"I'm sorry, I'm asking such personal questions," she hastened to amend. "I don't mean to be prying into your private life."

"That's alright," Akane replied, her cheeks still warm. But she decided not to offer any more information, for fear her face would start glowing like a light bulb and attract the attention of everyone in the dojo - and possibly cause something to catch on fire.

"Well... I don't think I'm ever getting married," Emi said as she idly watched Nabiki collecting sign-up fees.

Akane was taken somewhat aback by this admission. Talk about personal. And Emi was so... pretty! Beautiful even. Not to mention motivated and confident. Akane couldn't imagine her having any trouble attracting the attention of any man she wanted.

"Really?" was the only response Akane could pull out of her bafflement.

Emi nodded. "I have yet to meet a man that I respect enough to even consider dating," she said, "let alone marry."

Akane thought this sounded remarkably like Nabiki, who had little use for men as anything but a means to make money. Then again, it also sounded a bit like Akane herself. Although admittedly, Akane hadn't felt quite so vehemently anti-boy in a while. She wondered why that was.

"I never really thought much about getting married, before the engagement," Akane found herself saying. "I think most girls do, but I never really did. Although... I think I did want to fall in love some day..." Why was she being so honest with this person she had only just met? Maybe that was exactly why; she didn't expect Emi to judge her by some preconceived view. And she sensed a kindred spirit here.

"Our parents arranged the engagement." She discovered that she was watching Ranma conversing with his father and Kouryuu, and she looked hastily away. "Anyway, neither of us ever really wanted it."

"Didn't you have any say in it at all?" Emi asked, looking a bit shocked. Akane knew what she was thinking: even arranged marriages should hinge on _some_ degree of consent from the parties involved.

"No, not really," Akane admitted. "I was totally against it." Was? She realized what she was saying. When had she started taking her engagement to Ranma seriously? When had she first entertained the possibility that one day they would actually get married?

"I... can understand that," Emi sympathized. "My family has been trying to encourage me; they talk a lot about setting up marriage- interviews with men, but I've avoided those so far." She paused again, and then added with surprising candor, "Sometimes I really wish I could find a good boyfriend so that they would stop bugging me about it; but then I always remember that I hate men." Her voice sounded almost sad.

Akane wasn't sure how to respond. Emi related thoughts and feelings much like Akane's own, but they were disconcertingly juxtaposed with others Akane had never encountered. It was strangely revealing, as though Akane could see herself a little better in the light of Emi's contrasting experiences. She got the sense that Emi was older than she looked, older than Akane herself, and had seen more of life.

Emi now looked slightly embarrassed by the personal turn her words had taken. "It looks like things are winding down," she said. "I'd better get going."

"Wait." Akane grabbed her hand, startling herself almost as much as Emi with the familiar gesture. "I... Please do come back. I really enjoyed sparring with you today."

Emi's expression melted into a friendly smile, and she gave Akane's hand a gentle squeeze. "Me too. Maybe we can spar again tomorrow?"

Akane nodded. "Yes, I'd like that." She added, more shyly, "And maybe we could talk some more...?" Akane hadn't realized until now how much she needed a sympathetic ear; someone who would listen, but wasn't prying or teasing (like Nabiki), and who might share their own perspective, but without doling out "adult" advice, trying to act like her mother and treating her like a child (as Kasumi inevitably would).

"Of course," Emi replied. "Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," Akane agreed, smiling.

Akane already had two sisters. It had never occurred to her that she could be so pleased by the possibility that she might have found another one.

* * *

"Alooooooha, students!"

Principal Kunou's voice, amplified over the assembly speakers, was no less obnoxious than usual. Nabiki wondered what he had dragged them out of class for this time.

"I be havin' _big_ announcement to make dis mornin'!" he continued enthusiastically. "My boy Tatchi -" the principal raised a hand, and a spotlight came on, shining down on the row of seats in front of Nabiki. It illuminated an empty chair. Nabiki frowned. Hadn't someone been sitting there just a moment before?

"Eh? Where dat boy got himself to?" Principal Kunou's gaze zipped around across the ranks of students, then up to the ceiling, then back down again. Nabiki could hear a general murmur of confusion rising in the gymnasium-cum-auditorium. What was going on?

"Tatchi?" Principal Kunou looked around some more, then lifted his palms up and shrugged. "Oh well. Okaey den students, dis be da announcement: my boy Tatchi, you see, he a lonely boy..."

Nabiki froze in her seat as an icy claw of realization gripped her spine. Suddenly she knew exactly what this "announcement" was all about. Like a bolt of lightning, she was up out of her chair and running, thanking her luck she had been in an aisle seat. Her heart pounding, she raced for the stage. She had to get to the sound board before-

"... he need a good wahine, so my boy gon' marry..."

Too late; she wasn't going to make it. The final, fatal words were on his lips.

A screech of feedback rent the air. What was...? Students cringed and yelled. Nabiki kept running.

She rounded the corner of the stage to see the sound board operator lying unconscious on the ground, and a familiar bokken-wielding figure leaping away from the mutilated remains of the sound board. The saboteur landed on the stage, swinging his bokken with an almost crazed look on his face; a speaker exploded and fell in half, showering sparks across the front row of students.

Then all hell broke loose. Students screamed and yelled, many stampeding for the exits in confusion and mass hysteria at the sudden chaos. Kunou leapt at his father, braining him soundly and then turning to mangle the microphone stand with a few powerful strokes of his bokken. Nabiki watched silently, her heart still beating against her ribcage, as he tore into every piece of sound equipment in sight like a man possessed.

He jumped lightly down from the stage, his eyes still filled with the glow of rage as his gaze locked on Nabiki. "Tendou Nabiki, swear to me that you had no hand in this foul plot of my father's."

Nabiki stepped back, but held her ground in the face of his ferocity. "Are... are you stupid?"

The mad light of battle started to leave his eyes. "No, I suppose even you would not stoop to such machinations."

"You're damn right I wouldn't!" she fairly screamed in his face. Her poise had been completely shattered, her nerves shot with panic, and she hated it.

"Then we are of one mind and one purpose in this," he said. "Fighting will get us nowhere."

Nabiki blinked. Was Kunou actually talking sense?

She let out her breath, watching the staff and students mill about in confusion, some trying to right chairs that had been toppled in the initial rush, others continuing to knock more over. She felt her anxiety resolving itself into familiar calculation. "I suppose not. We'll have to work together to take this on; your assets, my brains." She had to admit that he had acted fast and saved both their necks just now; but that didn't mean she had to thank him.

"For now I will set aside your crudely implied slander against my intellect for the sake of the greater good. We cannot afford to waste time in petty pursuits if we wish to foil my father. To that end, I have also taken the liberty of disabling the school's PA system."

"Well, that ought to slow him down at least," Nabiki acknowledged.

"My thoughts exactly. But this is neither the time nor the place for such discussions."

Nabiki nodded. "Later. This afternoon. I can't stray too far from the dojo during classes until I'm sure things are going to run smoothly on their own, so you'll have to come by there."

"We shall meet at the Tendou Dojo then. But while time is of the essence, this day I cannot so brazenly abandon my after-school duties as captain of the illustrious kendo club, Tendou Nabiki. If nothing else, it would raise suspicion."

"Fine. Come by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it is then," Kunou agreed, and without a word further they returned to join their class as the teachers began rounding up students and leading them back to the classrooms.

Nabiki made a point of ignoring Kunou more than usual as their classmates pestered him with questions about the principal's truncated announcement. He disavowed any knowledge, a surprisingly sound tactic from Kunou. But Nabiki understood his unusual show of discretion; she of all people knew exactly what was at stake here.

Back in the classroom, speculations were quickly derailed by the subject of a different announcement. Nabiki guessed that, before now, no one in the class besides herself had ever seen the blonde foreigner standing at the front of the classroom smiling roguishly. But like her they were all probably wondering what in the world he was doing there.

"Class, I would like to introduce a new foreign exchange student," the teacher said, gesturing aside to the young foreigner. "This is Preston-kun, who has recently come from..." the teacher checked a sheet on his podium, frowned, and started flipping backwards through several other pages. "Well... from a lot of places. Um... so anyway, let's all give Preston-kun a warm 'haro'!"

The class echoed the English greeting obediently. Preston bowed and responded respectfully, also in English, "Your pronunciation is terrible." Of course, no one except Nabiki seemed to catch the meaning of the sentence.

"Preston-kun," the teacher said, turning to him. "I understand you know Japanese quite well or you wouldn't be here, but I have arranged for you to sit next to Tendou Nabiki-san. She is the class's best student in English. If there's anything you don't understand, she will be glad to help you."

Nabiki groaned inwardly as Preston moved to take the empty seat beside her.

"What are you doing here?" she shot at him in an undervoice without turning to look at him. "Don't they have special schools for people like you?"

Preston followed her example, lowering his voice and facing ahead. "Special schools?" he questioned. "You mean English-language schools for foreigners, or schools for ridiculously attractive people?"

"No, I mean schools for the mentally impaired!"

Preston smirked. "They were full."

A moment of silence passed as the teacher began writing on the chalkboard.

"Don't get too familiar," Nabiki warned him coldly, keeping her eyes forward. "I won't be as forgiving of your impudence as Ukyou was yesterday." And Ukyou had hardly been forgiving.

Preston grinned, also without taking his eyes off the chalkboard. "We're gonna be great friends."

* * *

Kouryuu sat across from his attractive and ever-gracious hostess, sipping tea. She smiled at him, which made him nervous. Of course, proximity to beautiful women in general made him nervous, mostly because he wasn't used to it. He thought he hid his anxiety under such circumstances as well as he ever did. But the kind eyes of his hostess - Tendou Kasumi, the eldest daughter, he reminded himself - seemed to see through him. And yet her gaze did not seem to be judging him in any way (unusual by itself), so he couldn't be certain.

_So,_ Kouryuu thought. _This will be my new home. For now._ The house and grounds were lovely and well-tended, that much was true. He had already agreed to stay and teach here, but the last hour of tea and quiet conversation had rapidly weakened his resolve.

It occurred to Kouryuu now, only after the fact, that it may have been a lapse in judgment to agree to reside in a house that clearly had more than its fair share of young and attractive women around at any given time. He reminded himself that only three of those he had seen the day before actually lived here.

Perhaps it was a test. Perhaps the exposure would toughen him, make him more resistant, and better able to withstand unnerving things like tea and conversation with beautiful women.

Or maybe he had unconsciously overlooked the reasons not to stay because he actually liked being around beautiful women, in spite of the anxiety he felt in their presence. This last notion had a ring of truth to it, but Kouryuu was determined to treat the whole thing as a test all the same.

"Man, you guys are quiet. What, are you having a staring contest or something?" Preston broke in. "Or a smile-at-each-other-politely contest, see who can hold it the longest?"

Kasumi smiled politely at Preston, who was sitting to Kouryuu's left.

"Hey, I'm not playing," he protested, but the calm serenity of her smile only intensified, if at all possible.

"How long have you been in Japan, Preston-kun?" Kasumi asked him.

"Oh, I dunno, a month maybe?"

"Your Japanese is very excellent."

"Thanks."

Well, Preston didn't seem to have any anxiety about conversing with beautiful women, Kouryuu noted, not for the first time, with a twinge of suppressed envy. Then again, Preston showed few qualms about interacting with anyone. Even after they bashed him in the head, which seemed to happen with alarming frequency.

Some commotion from beyond the outer wall caught Kouryuu's ear.

Their hostess tilted her head to the side, listening. "That must be Ranma and Akane back from school," she remarked. "My, it does sound like their arguing again." She rose calmly, and bowed. "If you'll excuse me, I think I had better get a kettle going." And she turned and left the room.

Before Kouryuu could even wonder at her words and actions, someone out on the street shouted, "Ranma you _idiot_!"

The sound of a loud splash drew Kouryuu's attention to the koi pond. A moment later, a red-headed figure in Chinese clothes emerged from the pond. Kouryuu realized it was yet another beautiful young woman, as she marched sullenly but determinedly into the house, dripping across the tatami-mat floor, and into the kitchen.

Kouryuu looked at Preston. Preston looked at Kouryuu.

"Was that...?" Kouryuu started, but trailed off, unsure of what he should be asking.

Preston shrugged, looking genuinely baffled.

Suddenly, the youngest Tendou daughter stormed past, and Kouryuu heard her tromping angrily up the stairs.

"Huh," Preston said, summing up the situation quite effectively.

After a lengthy pause in which Kouryuu sat somewhat bemused, Tendou Nabiki stepped in from the hallway. "I'm home - oh, Kouryuu- san. Welcome." Her eye caught on Preston.

"What's _he_ doing here?" she asked, her tone going from congenially businesslike to suspicious and almost indignant.

Preston cocked a thumb in Kouryuu's direction. "I'm with stupid."

"Your disrespect is unwarranted," Kouryuu informed him calmly - but only after his fist had shot out and struck Preston in the side of the head as if by its own will. Kouryuu frowned at his fist, annoyed with Preston and with himself. "See? Now you've made me transgress my vow of nonviolence."

"I'd say you had better get used to breaking that particular vow, if you're going to be staying here and teaching at the dojo," Tendou Nabiki told him blandly.

"I will not lift my hand in anger," Kouryuu replied solemnly.

Tendou Nabiki flicked her gaze to Preston sprawled on the floor and then back to Kouryuu. Her mouth quirked ironically.

Kouryuu followed her glance. "Er... again, that is," he amended.

"You see, Kouryuu's got this problem," Preston was saying as he pushed himself upright again. "Well, frankly he's got a lot of problems -" Kouryuu ground his teeth; Preston blithely continued, ignoring him "- but hey, who doesn't? Anyway, Kouryuu doesn't take direct insults very well, like if you call him something nasty to his face. Got to do with his upbringing, I guess."

"I see," she replied with little interest. "So you two know each other?"

"Oh, yeah, we go way back," Preston answered readily.

The middle Tendou daughter was watching Preston as though trying to gauge something about him. "Where are you from?" she asked.

Preston just grinned at her. "Guess."

"America," she shot back.

"Nope, guess again," Preston returned, still grinning.

"Australia?" she said, somewhat more hesitantly.

"Wrong again. Keep it up, you're on a roll."

"Mars!" she retorted, glaring at him angrily. "I don't have time for guessing games, I've got things to do." She turned and headed for the stairs.

"Man, some people have no sense of fun," Preston commented, still grinning as he watched her leave; she pointedly ignored him.

"Somehow, I seriously doubt that's the problem," Kouryuu told him.

Preston turned to him. "See, that's just what I'm talking about: you seriously doubt, you seriously believe, - hell, you even seriously smile! You do everything seriously. Lighten up a little!"

Kouryuu just sighed.

* * *

"Yo, Ucchan!"

Ukyou looked up, her heart rising as her head did. "Ranchan!" This was the first time he had come by since the disaster at the wedding, and it delighted Ukyou to no end to see his handsome smile as he strode in through the door.

Behind him followed not Akane, thankfully, but the tall striking man Ranchan had sparred against the day before. His ruined cloak had been replaced by what looked like a loose-fitting samurai's livery coat, thrown on over his forest-green Chinese shirt. His odd mix of archaic Japanese and Chinese garb hardly fazed Ukyou (she was used to much stranger things), and it suited him well, she thought. She had only met him briefly before, and was having trouble recalling his name.

The next figure that stepped in after them she recognized all too well; her exuberance was severely dampened.

"What's _he_ doing here?"

"Am I having deja vu, or have I been getting that reception a lot today?" Preston asked the other man - Kouryuu, she remembered.

"I highly suspect the latter," Kouryuu replied dryly.

Preston smiled at him. "You _seriously_ suspect."

Kouryuu just shook his head and followed Ranchan to the grill.

Ukyou focused her attention on Ranchan. Much better. "So what brings you here, sugar?"

"Food, what else!" Ranchan replied happily as he sat. She had hoped he would say _she_ had brought him there, but she'd settle for the draw of her cooking. She would catch her man yet, in a net woven of love and okonomiyaki.

"I thought I'd bring Kouryuu here before classes at the dojo get started today, show him the best okonomiyaki in town," Ranchan continued. "A kind of 'welcome to Nerima' thing, you know?"

"You're too kind," Kouryuu remarked with a nod of thanks.

Ranchan leaned back on his stool, arms behind his head, and grinned at the rafters. "Yeah, sometimes I even amaze myself."

"So what is _he_ doing here?" Ukyou leaned in and whispered to Ranchan, shooting a glance in Preston's direction.

"He kinda tagged along," Ranchan confided under his breath. "Didn't know it'd be a problem. Did he do something to you yesterday?"

Ukyou shook her head, grimacing, but she couldn't maintain the expression and broke into a happy smile as she looked at Ranchan.

"So, what can I get for you three then?"

The next hour passed surprisingly quickly as Ukyou made okonomiyaki after okonomiyaki, pleased each time by the look on Ranchan's face while he ate. Preston was blessedly quiet, seeming content, even happy, just sitting and watching everyone enjoy themselves - although he did give Ukyou's cooking rave reviews and ate nearly as much as Ranchan, both of which pleased Ukyou in spite of herself. It never failed to make her happy when someone so obviously appreciated her okonomiyaki, even someone so patently annoying.

Kouryuu of course complimented her as well, but he seemed like the sort who would have said nice things about her cooking even if he hadn't thought much of it. And he only ate one okonomiyaki, so she wasn't particularly flattered. He was also the one to remind Ranchan when it was time that they should be heading back to the dojo to teach classes, which didn't endear him to her either, though she knew it was hardly his fault that Ranchan had to go.

"You coming, Ucchan?" Ranchan asked as he stood to leave.

Ukyou made a face. "Can't, sugar. I already missed the dinner rush last night, and if I do it again I could lose my regulars. Some of my best customers come in the evenings."

"Hey, I thought I was your best customer," Ranchan protested jokingly.

Ukyou couldn't help but smile. "You are, Ranchan. I meant my best paying customers."

Ranchan looked a bit guilty at this, and Ukyou regretted saying it immediately. She hadn't meant anything by it.

"Well... I'll pay you back for today," he promised, fidgeting.

"Oh, no, that's okay," she assured him.

Kouryuu reached into his sleeve and pulled out a stack of five yen pieces hanging on a cord that had been strung through the square holes in the coins' centers. "I don't suppose this would be enough, but..." It looked like about 50 yen in all; the cord was probably worth more than the money on it.

"Don't worry about it," Preston interrupted. "I'll take care of the bill, you two get back to the dojo. I'll catch up with you later."

This idea did not appeal to Ukyou at all. But with Nabiki's loan still hovering over her, the prospect of getting paid made her hold her tongue.

"Really?" Ranchan asked. "Hey, thanks, man. You're a pal. Later Ucchan!" He waved and ducked out. Kouryuu bowed his thanks to both Ukyou and Preston and hurried after.

Preston watched them leave, and then turned back to Ukyou. He pulled out a wallet from his jeans pocket and started counting out money.

"So... you like Ranma, right?"

It was just about the last thing Ukyou could have expected him to say. She stared at him for a while, and then blurted, "He's my fiancé!"

Preston's eyebrows went up. "Really?"

"Yes," she affirmed, and added, with as much conviction as she could muster. "We're going to get married. So don't look so surprised."

"It's just... he didn't treat you much like his fiancée," Preston remarked. "More like... an old friend."

Ukyou looked away. It was true enough. "You don't know us."

Preston just looked at her without responding. He put a hand out, offering her a stack of bills. "This ought to cover everything."

Ukyou took the money and counted it. Then frowned, and counted it again.

"Can't you count? This is way too much."

"We'll call the extra a tip."

"Tip?" Ukyou wondered aloud at him. Oh. Right. That Western custom Ukyou had never really understood - something about paying after you had already paid. "Oh, no, people don't 'tip' here."

"They don't? How rude of them."

Ukyou sighed, opened the register and started putting the money away. "Whatever. Are you done now, or what?" She was impatient for the aggravating - if generous - foreigner to get on his way.

"Why do you do it?" Preston asked curiously.

Ukyou blinked. "Do what?"

"Why do you waste your time mooning over some guy who just treats you like a friend he can swing a free lunch from?"

It was an overly forward question, but an honest one. And yet it stung Ukyou like one of Nabiki's barbed "observations."

"That's not how he treats me!" she fervently denied, slamming the register closed. "And for your information, he doesn't come here because its free, he comes here because he likes my cooking!"

"Not because he likes you?" Preston asked. "And don't all of your customers come here because they like your cooking?"

"Shut up!"

The few other customers in the restaurant were starting to look up at the commotion, frowning, or just staring.

"Okay then," Preston relented good-naturedly. "Let's talk about something else."

"I don't want to talk to you!" Ukyou snapped at him. "So why don't you just go away!"

Preston looked at her, his expression somewhere between amused and quizzical. "You know, I get the feeling we aren't communicating properly here."

Ukyou threw her hands up. "Are you stupid or something? You can't take a hint, and then when I tell you to leave outright, you still don't get it!"

"Oh, I get it. But I want to leave on a happy note. I think you'll feel better in a little bit, so as much as I hate being around angry people, I'll stay. Here, I'll make you an omelet. How's that sound?"

Before she could answer, Preston hopped over the griddle, grabbed a spatula in one hand and three eggs in the other and went to work. Cracking all three eggs expertly onto the griddle with a flick of his wrist, he sought about for other ingredients, throwing them in as he talked.

"Hmm, doing this on a griddle instead of in a pan isn't gonna work too well." He shrugged. "I'll manage. You got cheese?"

Ukyou just pointed dumbly at the low refrigerator behind him.

"Ah... hey, you got all kindsa stuff in here," Preston said as he knelt down and pulled the door open. "Awesome."

Ukyou was impressed by the ease and speed with which he diced a piece of cheese and added it to the omelet. The methodical movement of his hands became like a ritual, and she felt herself calming as she watched him work. She was still angry, but she was more in control now.

"You know what your problem is? You act way too familiar with everyone and everything," she remarked, somewhat pointedly.

"Oh, yeah?" Preston said off-handedly, as if her comment didn't faze him in the least. "That's a pretty forward thing to say, isn't it?"

Ukyou did not rise to the bait.

"You know what _your_ problem is?" Preston asked, and paused as though waiting for a response - as if he wasn't going to tell her whether she wanted to hear it or not. "You've got these negative feelings you don't know what to do with. Like right now: you're angry, and you don't know why you're angry."

Ukyou fairly snorted at the absurdity of this. She did not get angry for no good reason; she was _not_ Akane. "I know exactly why I'm angry right now."

"Because of Ranma?"

The rest of Ukyou's reply caught in her throat. "What?"

"You're angry because of Ranma."

"No, I'm angry because of _you_! Why would I be angry at Ranchan?"

"Because he doesn't return your feelings."

Ukyou whipped out a hand-spatula. "Will you shut up with that!"

Preston dodged her strikes while he continued to cook the omelet. "I really think everyone should be happy, Ukyou. You should try being happy. I think it would look really good on you."

"If you think I should be happy, then stop saying shit to piss me off!" she retorted, still trying to hit him.

"I didn't _make_ you angry, Ukyou," Preston said as he flipped the finished omelet onto a plate and presented it to her. "Here."

Ukyou glared at the omelet. It looked really good. She glared at Preston, who was smiling at her. She took the plate. Then she slammed him in the side of the head with her hand-spatula. "That's for being a jerk."

"You're welcome," Preston replied evenly from the griddle.

* * *

Nabiki held her clipboard and read through the list of students. She glanced at the young man standing before her, dressed in a kendo-gi and carrying a bokken, certain she had never seen him there before - though he did look somehow familiar. He wore his long dark hair tied back neatly, and he had a handsome face that reminded her of someone. An actor from a historical drama, she thought, given that his outfit and appearance lent him a certain samurai-esque quality.

"Last name?" she asked.

"Hasegawa," he responded simply.

"I don't see your name on the list of paid clients," she informed him as neutrally as she could.

"I assure you that I am paid in full, Tendou-san."

Well, he seemed to have some idea of who she was, even if she didn't remember him from the open house. Maybe he had been dressed differently and had stood out less.

Nabiki started chewing on the end of her pen thoughtfully, but stopped herself. She really had to kick that habit - very unprofessional.

That Preston kid hadn't come back from Ucchan's with Ranma and Kouryuu. Nabiki had been half hoping that this meant that he was dead. But the loss in profit would be bad, as he was a paying customer, so she would refrain from thanking Ukyou if it turned out to be true. In the mean time, she had no qualms about giving away his spot in the class to this handsome stranger, effectively making the aggravating foreigner pay for a day of someone else's training.

The only problem was...

"That bokken," she pointed with a flick of her pen. "We don't have any kendo instructors here, and there aren't any other kendoists for you to spar with today."

"What about him?" the young man, Hasegawa, gestured to the dojo entrance.

Nabiki turned to see Kunou striding purposefully in, decked out in his usual kendo uniform, an expression of determination on his face.

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," Nabiki said as he approached, though she was honestly relieved he'd come sooner - they really needed to work on foiling this pineapple-brained stunt of his father's. "What happened to your responsibility as captain of the kendo team and all that?"

"I made a pretense of retreat into meditation in order to slip away, though it grieves me deeply to take so subversive and cowardly a tact. But discretion, as they say, is the better part of valor, and needs must we be discreet in this the winter of our discontent."

Of all the clichés that Kunou could have spouted, Nabiki had never expected to hear anything about the value of discretion. He was really taking this thing seriously. Good.

She gestured to the patiently waiting Hasegawa. "Kunou-chan, this is Hasegawa-kun."

Before she could say more, Kunou cut in. "Greetings, Hasegawa. I am Kunou Tatewaki, rising star of the high school kendo world, called the Blue Th-"

"Enough, Kunou-chan," Nabiki interrupted. "Business first. After our... discussion, you can be his sparring partner for the afternoon."

Kunou nodded. "Agreed. Where shall we retire to for our meeting of minds? This training hall is far too crowded."

"Follow me," Nabiki said. Kunou gave a slight bow to Hasegawa, who returned it, and he and Nabiki left the noisy dojo.

Outside was not much better, with scattered groups of martial artists sparring in the open, taking advantage of the relatively unconfined space. Nabiki managed to find a vacant corner by the wall.

"Will anyone be suspicious about your disappearance?" she asked, facing Kunou.

"No, I often retreat into meditation during kendo practice."

Nabiki looked at him quizzically. "Don't you think the time could be better served by actually practicing? Maybe Ranma wouldn't beat you all the time if you practiced more."

Kunou was unflappable. "No such worldly concerns can keep me from my spiritual devotions." Having seen Kunou's "meditation" room in the school dojo, Nabiki doubted that the nature of his devotions were in any way spiritual. "But that is beside the point," he continued, "as I practice at all other hours of the day and night, and Saotome only manages to defeat me through the use of trickery and black magic."

Nabiki sighed. "Whatever. Keep telling yourself that," she said, and waved it aside; on to business. "You understand your father better than I do - if it's even possible to understand him. Can we get him to call off this engagement nonsense?"

Kunou shook his head, his expression dour. "I'm afraid you don't comprehend his resolve in this. When my father says to put the lime in the coconut, his mind is set and he cannot be dissuaded."

Nabiki stared at him blankly. "Put the lime in the coconut?"

"I have no more an idea of what it means than thee, Tendou Nabiki. But heed my word that he will not back down from this endeavor."

Nabiki stood with her arms crossed, silently fuming. She threw her hands up in frustration. "Well we can't go on stalling him forever! What are we supposed to do, kill him?"

"I had considered that course of action," Kunou confided. "But I think we should consider other, less dire measures first."

Nabiki met Kunou's level gaze.

"You're serious? You'd do that? Murder your own father?"

"Tendou Nabiki," Kunou replied seriously, "far be it from some crazed school administrator with a palm tree sprouting from his crown to sunder me from my two true loves in favor of _you_."

_Of course,_ Nabiki thought sardonically. She should have known that her little sister and Kunou's precious "pig-tailed goddess" would factor most heavily in his thoughts and actions.

"But in sooth," he continued, "I do not know that I have the will for patricide within me. Better that I should ship him away to his beloved islands in a crate and pray that this time he does not return."

"So, why don't you?" Nabiki challenged.

"It provides no guarantee of his permanent absence, nor of his silence on the subject of our benighted shackling," he pointed out. "Thankfully, my father's notoriously short attention span should save us in the end. We need but persevere until it is banished from his thoughts by the passage of time through an addled brain."

Nabiki was impressed; Kunou actually could be sensible when he put his mind to it. Here she had fully expected to be the brains of this operation, and yet Kunou was providing all of the answers. She would have been annoyed, but she couldn't afford it, given the dire nature of their circumstances.

"How long will it take for him to forget?" she questioned.

"At most, I would give him less than a fortnight before his ever- shifting interests are caught up by some new way to make our lives miserable."

"So. A few weeks then. I think we - I can handle that." Nabiki pondered a moment. "Alright then, Kunou-chan; we've got our basic strategy, now we need tactics. So listen up..."

* * *

"You know, Akane," Emi said as they started on their second lap around the outside of the dojo, "if you really don't want to marry this fiancé of yours, you should really both confront your parents about it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've been complaining too much," Akane apologized.

"Not at all," Emi replied. Although to be honest, Akane had spent a good amount of time so far complaining about her fiancé.

"Anyway, we told them we didn't want any part of it when they first announced the engagement. It didn't do any good."

"Well... maybe they'll listen to you if you both come to them and just explain it to them, in no uncertain terms. It couldn't hurt to try at least. I mean, you've said that he calls you names all the time, and goes around with other girls; it's pretty clear from what you've told me that he doesn't care for you, right?"

Akane didn't respond. Her eyes were averted, her gaze downcast, staring at the ground and her running feet. Emi just watched her, puzzled. Neither of them saw the low tree-branch until it was too late.

"Ow!" Akane's forehead rebounded from the violent contact and she stumbled back, sitting heavily. She put her hands over her face.

"Akane!" Emi cried in surprise and concern, kneeling in the dust in front of her. "Are you alright? Did you hurt your eye?"

She realized that Akane's shoulders were shaking slightly. Emi reached out and slowly drew Akane's hands away from her face. Her bright eyes were tearful, but unharmed. Part of a bruise showed at the edge of her hairline, but she seemed otherwise uninjured. Suddenly, Akane grabbed Emi by the front of her gi and buried her face in Emi's shoulder.

Unsure of what to do, Emi patted Akane comfortingly on the back, feeling strangely like a big sister for the first time in her only-child existence.

"Hey, now," she soothed. "It didn't hurt that badly, did it?"

Akane just shook her head, her face still hidden against Emi's shoulder. Emi realized that the minor injury of the bruise wasn't what had made Akane cry. The branch had only served to crack some facade and expose some other pain.

Emi tried to think what she had said that could have brought Akane's hidden emotions so close to the surface that the sudden collision had forced them out.

"It's about your fiancé, isn't it?"

Akane seemed to be holding her breath. Slowly, she nodded silent confirmation against the fabric of Emi's karate-gi that was becoming damp with her tears.

Under any other circumstances Emi never would have pried; some part of her remained shocked that she had even posed the question. But she felt that Akane really needed to talk about whatever was bothering her, that she really _wanted_ to talk about it, but couldn't without some encouragement.

"Talk to me, Akane," Emi offered gently.

Akane pulled back, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her gi.

Emi shifted her legs and sat down in the dirt across from Akane, ignoring for the time being how dirty they were both getting. Sometimes you just had to get dirty to get things done.

"So," she began, when Akane didn't offer any clarifications. "I take it you don't hate your fiancé as much as you claim."

Akane looked away, off to her right and into the distance, gazing sullenly at nothing. A jerk of her chin passed for a nod, acknowledging the truth of Emi's observation.

"And you're worried about how he feels about you?"

She sniffed.

"Do you... even know how you feel about him?"

Akane looked at the ground between them. She shook her head slowly, reluctantly, as if she was even uncertain about her own uncertainty.

Emi was beginning to get the feeling that she had so far gotten a one-sided picture of Akane's fiancé. But, even if he had redeeming qualities, Emi couldn't encourage the girl in some half-felt infatuation with a guy who had done any of the things Akane claimed her fiancé had done.

"Akane, you can't stay with a guy if he doesn't treat you right. What has he ever done to show you he even cares about you?"

Akane fidgeted, making abstract patterns in the dust with a finger. "Well... once, when he didn't know that I could hear him... he told me... he loved me..."

"So what?"

Akane's head came up, her eyes wide. "Wha... what do you mean 'so what'?"

"Caring is about actions, not words," Emi said.

Akane looked thoughtful, considering this. "He... always comes when I'm in trouble." A small smile poked through her sullen expression. "Even when I don't want his help, sometimes..."

"Would he come if he didn't care?"

Akane looked at the ground again. "No, I guess not. But... what if..."

"Try to forget about the what ifs," Emi recommended. Did she really have the authority to be doling out advice on relationships? It wasn't as if she had much successful experience to stand on. She pushed the thought from her mind. Now was time to focus on Akane's problems, not her own.

"Sometimes..." Akane was saying, that tiny smile slipping out again. "Sometimes, once in a long while, he can do something really... sweet."

"So is it worth it?" Emi asked. "Is it worth it to be with him for those few moments out of the day, or month, or year, when he isn't acting like a complete ass?"

Akane's gaze went distant, as if she were seriously contemplating this question. Emi stifled a laugh.

Akane frowned. "What's funny?"

"I'm sorry, Akane, it's just-" she let slip an involuntary giggle "-that wasn't really a serious question. How can you consider marrying someone who acts like a complete ass?"

Akane smiled a bit, obviously infected by Emi's mirth, but trying to look indignant in spite of it. "He's not so bad most of the time."

"Well, it's up to you," she replied seriously, but was unable to keep the smile from her face. "But if he doesn't shape up, I'd say he doesn't deserve your attention and you should dump him, maybe find a nicer guy."

"That's easy for you to say," Akane said. "You're so pretty and talented, you could probably just get any guy you wanted."

Emi sighed, shaking her head. "Akane, _you're_ pretty and talented. _You_ could get any guy you wanted."

Akane blushed, "No, I'm not... I mean, I'm just..."

"Akane, listen to me," Emi interrupted her stammering refusal of the honest praise. "Don't ever let any guy make you think you're not worthy of him. If a guy doesn't show you enough respect, doesn't make you happy, or whatever, then _he_ isn't worthy of _you_." She put a hand on Akane's shoulder. "Remember that, okay?"

Akane smiled shyly, and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

The sound of approaching feet caused them both to look up. Two figures appeared around the corner of the training hall. One was Tendou Nabiki, the cool and strikingly young business manager of the dojo - Akane's sister. Emi didn't recognize the other, a tall, aristocratic- looking fellow with a handsome shock of brown hair.

"Now there's an unlikely pair," Akane whispered, apparently half to herself. "Unless Nabiki's up to something."

Before Emi could ask for any clarification, the tall young man - he didn't look much older than Akane - came rushing forward with a cry of "Tendou Akane! My love!" only to be bowled over by a swift uppercut that sent him tumbling back the way he had come.

The move was executed like some violent parody of a ballet, as though precisely choreographed and practiced a thousand times. A single thought came unbidden to Emi's mind, _why doesn't she fight like that when she's sparring me?_

Nabiki stepped gingerly around the prone form of the young man, shaking her head. "Kunou-chan, when will you ever learn?"

"When some other star doth teach my heart to burn more brightly," he replied calmly from where he was sprawled on the ground.

"What about your beloved pig-tailed girl?"

Still lying flat on his back, the young man, who was apparently named Kunou, replied, "The abundance of my love cannot be measured in a single cup, Tendou Nabiki."

"Um... Akane?" Emi interrupted. "This guy couldn't be... your fiancé?"

"What? _No!_" Akane denied with the force of a jackhammer.

Before Emi could even finish being properly surprised by Akane's outburst, Kunou was up on his knees and enfolding Akane in a warm embrace.

"Ah, but it is true! We are destined to be wed - _ack!_" His head collided with the branch that Akane had bumped into earlier.

_This is getting really strange,_ Emi thought.

"Kunou, will you cut it out!" Akane shouted at him. "For the last time, I will not date you, or marry you, or whatever!"

Kunou sat up, straight-backed and cross-legged. "Tendou Akane, you _wound_ me with your words."

Akane brandished a fist at him. "I'll wound you with more than words if you keep it up!"

"Is this man bothering you, ladies?"

All eyes turned to see another kendo-carrying young man approaching from the other direction. Emi suddenly felt like she had accidentally stumbled into some bad samurai drama.

"Ah," Kunou said, standing and dusting himself off. "Hasegawa, isn't it? I did promise you a taste of my fighting prowess to bolster your own training. Well then, sirrah, so that your meager skills might improve under the tutelage of my unsurpassable greatness, let us repair to the training hall."

"I think your 'unsurpassable greatness' can be repaired right here," replied the newcomer - Hasegawa? He brandished his bokken. "Allow me."

Kunou's eyes flashed. "A challenge then, is it? Very well, cretin, you shall taste the wrath of the Blue Thunder."

Hasegawa smirked. "No thank you. I don't like energy drinks. But I will be perfectly glad to land you in that tree," he gestured to the tree that had so far today had two heads violently accost its lowest branch.

"Ha!" Kunou laughed. "Such impudence!" He charged.

And landed with a thud on his head in the middle branches of the small conifer.

"Hmm." His upside-down frown looked more speculative than angry as he crossed his arms and legs. "I seem to have underestimated you as an opponent. Perhaps my skills have waned from disuse after all."

"I'll say," Nabiki agreed readily. "You SO should have been able to counter that. Even I saw it coming a kilometer off."

Now it was Hasegawa's eyes that flashed. "Oh, really?"

Suddenly, he lunged at Nabiki. Emi's reflexes got her as far as her knees before the young kendoist had used his bokken to sweep Nabiki's legs out from under her, lift her, and place her gently on the lowest branch of the tree in a single, smooth motion, putting her head about level with Kunou's.

"I suppose you saw that one coming too?" he asked.

"From a kilometer off," Nabiki replied shakily.

Angrily, Emi grabbed the end of Hasegawa's bokken, effectively getting his attention.

"Listen, dirtbag," she snapped. "I don't like guys who pick on untrained girls and people weaker than themselves. If you want to tangle with a real martial artist, then take me on."

Hasegawa looked down at her quizzically. He gave a nod. "Very well, then."

Emi came to her feet with a back-spinning roundhouse kick that caught him full in the chest and sent him reeling into the wall of the dojo with a resounding slam. He coughed, then let slip a hint of a smile.

"You're not fooling around, are you?" he said in a slightly strained voice.

"You're damn right I'm not!" she shot back. It had irked her enough the way he had strolled right in and inserted himself into the situation, picking a fight with this poor sap Kunou for no apparent reason. But then when he went and treated Nabiki like he had, just because she was a defenseless girl and he thought he could get away with it - that had really pissed Emi off.

"Emi, calm down," Akane urged her.

"It's really not a big deal," Nabiki commented, though it sounded forced, like she was downplaying how much he had shaken her up. "It was actually... kind of cool."

Emi ignored their protests as she and her opponent faced off, circling slowly. She didn't much care for macho guys who tried to act "cool." This one, she would teach a lesson.

"What's going on here?" a strong voice broke in on Emi's anger- fueled concentration.

Kouryuu stood casting a somewhat bemused frown on the collection of students, managers, residents, and guests of the Tendou dojo, scattered through the foliage and across the ground in front of him.

When no one responded to his question, Emi obliged. "I'm about to kick the tar out of this creep, that's what's going on!"

Kouryuu's frown became more severe, which was disconcerting, since Emi had never seen him do anything except smile amiably, to varying degrees. He also towered over her head and shoulders - she had thought Kunou tall, when he was standing next to Nabiki, but Emi realized that she only came up to about the middle of Kouryuu's chest. She resented being intimidated, especially by males, and right now Emi didn't particularly care that Kouryuu's height wasn't his fault - it was just one more thing to piss her off.

"We don't... 'kick the tar out of' other students here, Sakai-san. We train. Now, if there's a problem-"

"I'll give you a problem if you don't butt out!" Emi snapped.

Kouryuu sighed. "Buddha preserve me. If I'd wanted to sort out petty squabbles I'd have stayed in China and trained the novices in the monastery."

Maybe he wasn't being intentionally condescending, but Kouryuu's "authoritative man" attitude was wearing on her already enflamed nerves.

"Sensei or not," she said evenly, "don't talk down to me, or so help me I WILL hurt you."

"Will _somebody_ please decide who is fighting who?" Nabiki called from the sidelines where she was still perched in the tree with Kunou.

"If you need to take your frustration out on someone," Kouryuu said, almost grudgingly, "you may spar with me."

"Forget it," Hasegawa told him. "I can handle this."

Kouryuu eyed Emi appraisingly, which she didn't like one bit. "Don't be so sure," he replied. "I've seen her fight, and she's quite skilled."

Afforded this modicum of respect, Emi felt some of her rage cool. "_Thank_ you," she breathed.

"An honest assessment, nothing more," Kouryuu demurred. He bowed aside to the open yard behind him. "Shall we?" It was almost as if he were asking her to dance, not challenging her to a sparring match.

Emi hesitated a moment, then put on a purposeful frown and stepped forward, ready to test yet another teacher's mettle.

And it was very much like a dance. Kouryuu's moves were so fluid it was like trying to attack the rain, and her strikes only hit the cloth of his coat or else swished through empty air. Whenever she thought her fist or foot was about to connect, he would counter, redirecting her attack to hit nothing and pushing her away with an open- palmed strike. Finally, as her frustration mounted, she started to land a few blows - but they felt strange, without force, and she realized that Kouryuu was rolling with her strikes, and only a fraction of their power was getting through.

She broke off her attacks, breathing heavily. Kouryuu seemed hardly to have broken a sweat. "You _are_ good," she conceded.

"Thank you," he returned, bowing. "But I try to refrain from violence whenever I can."

Which would explain his very defensive style, that had kept her at bay but done her no real harm.

"You, too, are very skilled, as I said before" - Emi felt embarrassed and even a bit pleased by the praise in spite of herself - "but I'd appreciate it if you would also try to refrain from violence rather than beating up other students." He gestured at Hasegawa, "Even if it IS only Piku over here."

A silence fell over the group.

"Um... Kouryuu-sensei," Akane finally said from where she sat on the ground nearby. "Did you just call him... Piku?"

"Yes," Kouryuu said, in a tone that made it clear he didn't see anything unusual about that.

"Hasegawa Piku," Hasegawa said. "That's what I'm called."

"What kind of a name is that for a man!" the still arboreal and upside-down Kunou bellowed in apparent indignation.

"It sounds more like a cat's name to me," Nabiki remarked bemusedly, swinging her feet back and forth below her.

Hasegawa - Piku? - grinned and made a claw gesture at Nabiki with one hand. "Raowr!"

From inside the dojo, a cry of "C-c-c-c-c_at!_" rang out, followed by running footsteps. A very pale and shaky Ranma rounded the corner, followed by his father and several very confused students.

"Where's the cat, where's the cat?" Ranma panted, looking around in apparent terror. "Get rid of it, get rid of it, getitouttahere!"

_Okay,_ Emi thought. _NOW things are getting really strange._ All the previous events had obviously just been a prelude.

"There's no cat, Ranma," Akane called. "Go back to what you were doing."

Ranma looked like he was about to collapse in relief. "Oh. Okay. Good. No cat." He turned to his students and waved an arm distractedly. "Everything - everything's fine. Everybody, just, go back to what you were doin'." Ranma's father started herding the puzzled students back into the training hall.

Emi had calmed down quite a bit and didn't feel nearly so angry anymore - but she was now very confused. "Will somebody _please_ explain what the _hell_ is going on around here!"

"If only somebody knew," Nabiki said, almost wistfully.

Kunou, who had been looking very thoughtful, suddenly spoke up. "It appears that you have a number of skilled martial artists attending these classes of yours, Tendou Nabiki. Very well, I will deign to train here amongst your plebian clientele - but I will accept nothing less than the title of High Master of the kendo hall!"

"Call yourself what you like, Kunou-chan," Nabiki responded dryly. "You always do anyway. But there's no kendo hall. If you want to play with sticks, you'll have to stay outside."

"What!" Kunou cried, almost unseating his shoulders from their perch in the crook of two branches. "No kendo hall at the Tendou dojo! Such a travesty against the martial arts has never been known! SASUKE!"

A small black-clad figure suddenly appeared in the branches of the tree beside Kunou. "Yes, master?"

Emi blinked. A few others looked nearly as surprised as she felt, but Nabiki and Akane seemed to take it in stride.

"Sasuke, I wish to draw funds from the Kunou estate to construct a kendo hall, here at the Tendou residence."

"But master, where shall we build it? The grounds have no room for a full-sized kendo hall."

"Fine," Kunou replied promptly. "Then purchase the empty lot next-door and build it there."

"But there is no empty lot next door, master."

"Then make one empty!" Kunou said through almost clenched teeth. "Now, no more of your excuses! Make it so, Sasuke."

"Yes, master." And the figure vanished.

"Did..." Emi pointed an uncertain finger at where the apparition had been an instant earlier. "Did he just...? Was that a NINJA?"

"I... believe it was," Kouryuu responded with a puzzled look on his face.

Kunou nodded solemnly in agreement - which actually did manage to dislodge him from the tree. He tumbled over to his right, landing on the branch next to Nabiki, who looked surprised for a moment while he continued to look solemn. Then the branch gave way with a loud snap and they both came crashing to the ground in a heap.

"Well," Akane said, still sitting on the ground. "At least no one else will bump their head now."

End Part II

* * *

Part III will be written entirely in rhyming couplets without using the letter 'e'.


	3. Part III: Houseguests

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other copyright holders who are not me. All obnoxious original characters in this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

* * *

**Spring of Drowned Dojo**  
_The Life and Times of an Aquatransexual Martial Arts Instructor_

A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions  
written by Ambulatory Kettle

* * *

Part III: Houseguests

"So, Sasuke, please explain to me again why you had to construct this other building here as well as the kendo hall I requested?"

"Building codes, master," Sasuke replied. "This is a residential block, and the city wouldn't allow us to build anything on this land without a house to go with it."

"I see," Kunou said, placing a hand on his chin pensively. "Well, no matter. As long as all else is as it should be."

"Would YOU please explain to ME, Kunou-chan," Nabiki broke in, "how in the world you got a dojo AND a brand new house built here OVER NIGHT? I mean, nobody even heard a thing! Not to mention, what happened to the people who lived here before?"

"Negotiations took several days, but 'tis no complex matter, Tendou Nabiki. Sasuke simply used his union connections to contract a particular shinobi group that specializes in building demolition and construction. As for the former residents, I assure you that they are thoroughly enjoying their early retirement in Okinawa."

Feeling nearly overawed for one of the few times in her life, Nabiki gazed at the new buildings from where she, Kunou, and Sasuke all stood at the edge of the property. The kendo hall was almost as large as the Tendou training hall, and the two dojos made a very aesthetic pair, standing not fifteen meters apart. Towards the front of the lot sat a two-story house, complete in every way, as though it had always been there. It looked quite comfortable and homey. The builders had knocked out one side of the wall that encircled the Tendou residence and dojo and extended it to surround the adjoining new structures - they had even used the same kind of stone so that the additions matched up quite well and looked only slightly newer than the rest of the old wall.

"So you're saying NINJAS built this? All of it? In one night?"

"Not quite, Nabiki-dono," Sasuke corrected. "They subcontracted the plumbing. As a result, there's no running water yet."

If Nabiki were the sort of person who would have ever allowed herself to faint, she would have, right then and there. "Kunou-chan, you have REALLY outdone yourself this time. I mean, I've seen you spend money before, and lots of it, but this... this takes the cake - and eats it too."

"I do not wish to disillusion you to my boundless generosity," Kunou returned, "but I was not the sole patron of this endeavor."

"Oh?" Nabiki prompted, her curiosity piqued.

"Monies for the building of the illustrious Kunou Tatewaki Kendo Hall of course came from the assets of the Kunou estate. However, the cost of this lot, as well as fees for the demolition of all previous structures, were shared between myself and another interested party. Also, the house you see here, while necessary for the sake of legal niceties, is none of my doing."

"What other interested party?" she asked, somewhat baffled. Who, besides Kunou, would want to build a kendo hall at the Tendou dojo?

"Oh, it's done already? Awesome! That was fast."

Nabiki felt her spine go rigid at the sound of that voice.

"NO." She shook her head. "No. No way. Absolutely not."

"Ahem," Preston cleared his throat, pointing at her feet. "I believe you are on my property."

* * *

The school bell chimed, signaling the start of morning classes. Gazing out the window at the burgeoning fall colors, Ranma realized how rare it was for him to hear that noise while sitting at his desk instead of racing along the street outside. He'd awakened earlier than usual that morning, his mind filled with visions of the afternoon's upcoming martial arts class. Today was Thursday; it would be his fifth day teaching, and he found he was looking forward to it more each time.

Pop had kept snoring, so Ranma had sparred with Kouryuu instead. It went by faster but felt more productive, since Kouryuu didn't spend the whole morning just trying to one-up him like Pop always did. With the expanded space of the adjoining lot that had suddenly been available as of that morning, Ranma managed to avoid the koi pond and the time- consuming task of explaining his curse yet again.

It had been strangely quite pleasant, to have a leisurely walk to school with Akane, free of any complaint or concern about being late. It had felt as good, if not better, than the morning's workout, like something he would want to do everyday.

Not because of AKANE, of course. No way. He tried to push his mind to other things. Not that he was SCARED of thinking about Akane, about her contented smile in the morning light, about why walking with her had made him feel- _No, not with HER! Just WALKING, the WALKING was good. Stupid brain, think about something else, something that makes sense, like martial arts._ Akane decidedly did not make sense. Clearly the morning's workout had just left him a little tense and the walk had done him some good, allowing him a bit of an after-stretch, and that was why it had felt good. Yeah, that was it.

The soft, crisp swish of the classroom door opening heralded the likely arrival of Hinako-sensei, but failed to interrupt Ranma's thoughts, which he was steering towards plans for that afternoon. Around him, his classmates started to stand up. That caught Ranma's attention - no one ever bothered to stand for Hinako-sensei.

Rather than their homeroom teacher's childlike form, the more middle-aged (and, in Ranma's mind at least, somehow pelican-like) figure of Omura-sensei stood framed in the doorway. Grudgingly, Ranma got to his feet.

"Due to an unfortunate bubblegum-accident," he was saying soberly, "Hinako-sensei will be in the hospital for the next month or so, and will be unable to attend classes."

"All right!" Ranma's joyful cry was nearly lost in the excited hubbub that threatened to grow into a happy ruckus.

Omura-sensei frowned disapprovingly. "Quiet please." When the commotion had died down into elated silence, he continued, and an uncharacteristic smile broke through his lugubrious-sea-bird expression. "It's my pleasure to introduce my niece- er, I mean, Hinako-sensei's substitute."

He stepped aside to allow someone else to enter. An intrigued murmur spread through the classroom.

At first, Ranma couldn't place where he'd seen those finely arched eyebrows and high cheekbones before. Then it hit him like a block of concrete between the eyes. Pull the hair back into a pony-tail, trade the practical business attire for a karate uniform - Ranma glanced secretly over to where Akane sat, and took in the pleased glow in her eyes. No mistaking it; for the second time that week, Ranma felt like his innards had been spontaneously transformed into industrial piping.

"Hello class," the teacher greeted them. "My name is Sakai Emi. I'll be your new homeroom sensei."

* * *

Akane surreptitiously watched Ranma sweat through their morning lessons. Akane felt a little sorry for him, as he sat in rigid silence, obviously dismayed beyond reason by the whole situation. At the same time, she felt a little smug at his discomfort. The tables of authority were turned: the teacher was now the student, and vice-versa. This was one instance in which Ranma simply could not win, and certainly not by virtue of his martial arts skill. Hopefully it would teach him a bit of much needed humility.

Not surprisingly, Emi - or, rather, Sakai-sensei - was mostly ignoring Ranma, which seemed to be making him sweat even more. For the fourth or fifth time (Akane had lost count), Emi's eyes paused on Ranma, her gaze hovering, threatening to call on him, only to move on to someone else. For his own part, Ranma was sitting on his hands.

Ranma seemed to be alone in his anxiety. The other boys in the class were still gazing somewhat starry-eyed at their attractive new substitute teacher. Akane hid a smile behind her hand. She guessed that some of the more testosterone-addle brains at the school might mistake Emi's youthful appearance for a sign that she was somehow vulnerable, or wasn't completely off-limits. Anyone who did was likely in for their own harsh lesson in humility.

A sudden, loud explosion rattled the windows, and a cloud of dust billowed up from the front of the school. Before anyone could even be surprised, Ranma stood bolt upright.

"That'll be for me!" he blurted, and made a break for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Emi demanded.

The windows rattled again as a loud voice boomed, "SAOTOME RANMA! COME OUT AND FACE ME!"

"Told ya, gotta go," Ranma shot back over his shoulder as he pulled the door aside and swung out into the corridor at full tilt.

"Hey! You get back here!" Emi shouted after him as she gave chase. Akane followed hot on her heels; she could hear the pounding footsteps of the rest of the class behind her.

Rushing down the stairs and out into the front courtyard, Akane could see that one of the large stone gateposts had been completely demolished. Beside the remains of the gatepost, dust settled around the lone form of Ryouga, a dark glower etched across his features. Under other circumstances, Akane would have been glad to see her erstwhile friend, but it seemed his inexplicable rivalry with Ranma had once again rekindled to the point of vendetta.

"Ryouga, buddy, PERFECT timing! Man, am I ever glad to see you!" Ranma was saying as he rushed out to greet the clearly enraged Ryouga.

Akane sighed. Here, at least, was a challenge Ranma knew how to deal with.

"Shut up and prepare for defeat, Ranma!" Ryouga cried, whipping out his umbrella and making several jack-hammer jabs that Ranma easily avoided.

From there, things just spiraled further out of control - or into control, Akane realized. Ranma's control. _Poor Ryouga,_ Akane thought. _Even after all this time, he still can't see when Ranma is leading him straight into a trap._

Emi stepped forward, her determined features making it clear she was prepared to intervene.

Akane grabbed her arm, bringing her up short. "Wait!"

Emi looked at her, puzzled. "Akane, what-?"

"You'll get caught in it," Akane said.

"Caught in what? The fight?"

"No, in the-"

"HIRYUU SHOUTEN HA!"

A blast of wind rushed past them, fueling the sudden rising surge of air that flung the hapless Ryouga high into sky. Akane squeezed her eyes shut until the tearing wind died away into a zephyr.

When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted by Emi's stunned expression, gazing uncomprehendingly at where, an instant earlier, Ryouga had been closing on a now solitary Ranma. "What did he... where did...?" Emi stammered as she brushed her windblown hair out of her face. Ranma just smiled smugly across the courtyard at her.

"I told you," Akane said. "Ranma's REALLY good."

"What's that?" Ukyou was standing on Akane's right, looking up at the sky. "Is that Ryouga up there?"

Akane followed her gaze up. A red spot was descending towards them. It looked like Ryouga's umbrella, but it was floating down upside down, and- suddenly, it snapped shut, revealing Ryouga behind it, falling to earth with the umbrella before him like the nose-cone of a missile.

_He used the umbrella to shield himself from the blast!_ Akane realized. He'd ridden the updraft on his inverted umbrella - and now he was coming straight back down.

"Get outta the way! Hurry!" Ranma was shouting as he dashed towards them, waving his arms and trying to herd gawking students out of harm's way. Akane grabbed Yuka and Sayuri standing nearby and leapt away just as Ryouga came crashing to earth.

The sound nearly deafened her as a huge crater opened up where they had been standing an instant earlier, swallowing up the school's courtyard. Landing beyond the lip of the gaping hole, Akane and her friends went sprawling as a shockwave rippled across the ground, uprooting grass and trees and splintering concrete.

"Cover your heads!" Akane cried as small bits of debris rained down on them.

A moment later, all commotion had subsided, and things were deceptively quite. A pair of worn sneakers landed nimbly in Akane's field of vision. She looked up to see the weird foreigner, Preston, with a female underclassman tucked under each arm.

"What are you doing here?" Akane asked.

"I came down to watch the fight, what else?" he said, as if it should be obvious. He set the two surprised girls gently on their feet, but casually kept an arm around each of their waists. One frowned through her startlement and the other blushed.

"Playboy," Ukyou muttered quite audibly as she stalked up with Hiroshi and Daisuke slung backwards over each of her shoulders by the collars of their shirts.

"All I did was save them," Preston stated evenly, disengaging from his rescuees. "Where I come from it's called chivalry, Ukyou-san."

Akane did a double-take. Ukyou-SAN?

"Oh, yeah?" Ukyou bit back, apparently oblivious to the uncharacteristic honorific Preston had added to her name. She dropped the two boys unceremoniously in the dirt and gripped the haft of the battle-spatula strapped to her back. "Well where I come from, it's called being a PLAYBOY!"

"Suit yourself," Preston replied calmly, clearly refusing to be baited into a fight. Akane couldn't blame him; she couldn't see any reason why Ukyou was being so antagonistic.

Ukyou ground her teeth, but said nothing.

"Did you have to drop us?" Hiroshi complained, rubbing his head as he climbed to his feet.

Ukyou was about to snap at him, but Daisuke broke in, "Looks like we fared better'n most." He removed his hand from his offended rear to point to where Gosunkugi and the rest of the boys in the class lay in the rubble at the edge of the crater, stunned but, by some miracle of dumb luck, otherwise mostly uninjured. Apparently no one else besides Ukyou had bothered to save any boys.

Akane got to her feet and scanned the destruction. She spotted Emi standing near a half-bent tree with a female student she had apparently helped escape the worst of the impact. Akane waved.

"Emi-er, sensei, are you all right?"

Emi, still looking a bit stunned herself, waved back. "We're fine! Where... where's Sao- Ranma-kun?"

"I'm right here," Ranma's voice called. Akane turned to see him emerge from behind the foliage of a toppled tree - carrying a human pyramid of girls across his arms and shoulders.

Anger boiled up inside Akane. "RANMA!"

He gave her a dumbfounded look. "What? What'd I do?"

Most of the girls he was carrying were beginning to blush - especially those seated neatly on his palms, and certainly the one situated directly above his head.

"If I were you, Ranma," Preston was saying with a grin, "I wouldn't look up right now."

"Huh? Why?" He looked up - WHAM! "OW!" - and received a heel to the eye. The girl-pyramid collapsed on top of him as the others all started hitting him.

"Ow, ow! Hey, is this the thanks I get!" he yelped from where he lay huddled in the center of the enraged crowd of girls. Akane was just rolling up her sleeves, ready to wade into the fray and deal out some justice of her own, when someone came tearing past her.

"Stop! Stop it! No more fighting!" Emi shouted, pulling the girls off Ranma left and right. Startled, they stopped pounding on him almost immediately. Akane just blinked, bewildered.

"Look at this mess you've caused!" Emi chastened Ranma angrily as she offered him a hand up.

Ranma waved aside the offer of help with an annoyed flick of his arm and hopped to his feet on his own. "I didn't make the mess, Ryouga did," he griped.

Picking his way over a few dazed classmates, Ranma strode to the crater's edge and crouched down to peer down inside. "Yo, Ryouga!" he called. "You okay? You don't look so hot."

Akane could hear a distinct quaver in Ryouga's voice when it finally floated up out of the massive hole in the ground. "G... give up, Ranma! I've - agh! - I've defeated your Hiryuu Shouten Ha!"

"Don't kid yourself. Even YOU couldn't fall that far without taking serious damage. You look about as healthy as pig-pudding right now, P-chan."

_There he goes again,_ Akane thought. She swore she would never be able to fathom why Ranma called Ryouga "P-chan," of all things, or why it never failed to make Ryouga so mad.

"Don't call me...! Don't call me...!" Ryouga's strained voice came from below.

Smirking, Ranma cocked a hand to one ear, leaning in closer to the pit. "Eh? What's that, P-chan? Can't seem to hear you."

Akane didn't feel like warning Ranma that, while he was busy taunting the helpless Ryouga and his guard was down completely, Emi was striding quite purposely up behind him. In the last few steps, Emi tucked into a roll, flipping forward to bring the back of her foot down squarely on the top of Ranma's head. He never saw it coming. Ranma dropped into the crater like a sack of rocks, an incredibly stupid expression startled onto his face.

Emi got up and dusted herself off, calling down after him, "You're BOTH staying after school to clean this all up!"

"Um... but sensei," Daisuke piped up from the sidelines, "That Ryouga guy isn't actually a student here..."

Emi glared at him. "You want to join them, Daisuke-kun?"

Daisuke swallowed and shrank under her gaze. "No'm," he blurted, and hid behind Hiroshi - who hid behind Preston, who just looked at them both bemusedly.

Her attention drawn in his direction, Emi pointed at Preston. "You. Get back to your own class. The rest of you, follow me; class isn't over yet."

Everyone who was able moved hastily to comply. They clearly didn't dare disobey.

Glancing back only once at the gaping hole in front of the school, Akane joined her classmates in their subdued but hurried shuffle back indoors.

_Dummies,_ Akane thought, trying not to feel sorry for the pair who were likely lying in a heap at the bottom of the crater. She supposed they had only got what they both deserved.

* * *

_This is just great,_ Ukyou thought sullenly, as she crossed her arms and leaned against a tree, idly watching a pair of kendoists who had left the new kendo hall and taken to the outdoors to practice. It was the first day since the open house that she had been able to get away from the restaurant, and Ranchan wasn't even here. And, judging by the size of the crater he and Ryouga had to fill in, she would have to be back at work for the dinner rush long before he would be around.

She was just mentally preparing herself for an afternoon of sulking, followed by a busy evening of blessedly distracting work, when an unfamiliar voice broke in on her thoughts.

"Would you care to spar?"

Ukyou looked up and around at the smiling, handsome face that greeted her. Something about the dark-haired young man was strikingly samurai-like, and it wasn't just his kendo outfit.

"Have... have we met?"

The stranger bowed. "I'm called Hasegawa. Hasegawa Piku."

Ukyou stifled a giggle that almost turned into a snort.

"Kuonji Ukyou," she returned, but felt compelled to add, "'Piku?' Are you joking?"

Still smiling, he leaned in conspiratorily. "I never joke, Kuonji-san."

Inadvertently, she found herself sharing in his smile. She sized him up, drawing her battle-spatula. "Alright then, Piku-kun - Hasegawa-san. Let's spar." At the very least, maybe a bit of sparring could help her forget her frustraton at Ranchan's untimely absence from the dojo.

Piku turned out to be a very good kendoist and an excellent sparring partner, offering helpful advice and encouragement, acknowledging her skill, but without the insolence of her last sparring partner, the incorrigible Preston.

"Good, Kuonji-san! Nice counter-oof!"

Catching him for a moment off guard, Ukyou swept Piku's feet out from under him, landing him in the dirt. He smiled appreciatively - then suddenly frowned. Ukyou frowned back, puzzled, but realized he was looking at something just beyond her shoulder.

Someone grabbed Ukyou from behind, pinning her arms to her side. Ukyou's scream mingled with the cry of her attacker.

"Aaaaaaaghhhh!"

"Shampoooo-!"

THOCK. Piku was up on his feet in a flash, striking her assailant a blow to the head, causing him to let her go.

"Mousse, you idiot!" Ukyou rounded on him. "I am NOT Shampoo!"

"You're not?" Mousse, now seated on the ground, pulled his glasses down over his eyes. "Oh. Kuonji-san. But then where's Shampoo?"

"How should I know?" Ukyou snapped at him.

"You mean she's not here? But... she said she was coming here to see Saotome."

"Well Ranchan's not here," Ukyou informed him pointedly. She made a mental note to warn Ranchan that Shampoo was looking for him, and that Mousse was equally likely to give him trouble - assuming Ukyou's path crossed Ranchan's anytime soon, which she hoped but seriously doubted would happen.

Mousse looked around, seeming to take his first good look around the grounds. "Hey... what's with all this new construction? And why are all these people here?"

"It's a DOJO," Ukyou said. "People come here to train."

"But I thought..." Mousse shook his head as if dismissing the train of thought as unimportant, and got to his feet. "If Shampoo isn't here, then there is no reason for me to stay." And with that, he disappeared over a nearby wall.

Ukyou discovered that Piku was gazing at her quizzically.

She smiled, feeling a bit awkward. "Sorry about that."

"You certainly have an odd collection of characters around here," he commented.

"You're telling me," Ukyou agreed wholeheartedly as she bent to retrieve her giant battle-spatula from where she had dropped it when Mousse had accosted her. Straightening, she adjusted her bandoleer. "Makes things a bit difficult for normal people like us, don't you think?"

Piku nodded. "Oh, absolutely."

* * *

By the time Ranma stumbled into the dojo, exhausted and covered in dirt, his students were already filing out and leaving for the day. Bewildered, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, searching the blank or puzzled faces of passing students for someone familiar - Pop, Kouryuu, even Nabiki or that Preston kid - to explain what was going on. Had everything just gone on without him? How could they have classes without HIM, Saotome Ranma, THE sensei, the senior instructor?

"Ah, there you are," Kouryuu's voice came from behind him. "Excellent timing. Does this belong to you?"

Ranma turned to discover his fellow instructor holding up an upside-down and very angry-looking Shampoo, dangling by her ankles from his grip. He wisely kept her at arms length.

"Let Shampoo go, stupid man!" she fairly shrieked at him, flailing wildly. Levering herself up, Shampoo tried to pry his fingers apart, without success. She flopped back down and let loose a stream of what Ranma could only guess was searing Mandarin invective, which managed to raise Kouryuu's eyebrows a millimeter or so but failed to accomplish anything else. He quipped something back at her, surprising Ranma with his apparent fluency. Shampoo just screamed at him incoherently.

"She showed up a moment ago and started harassing students, demanding to know where you were," Kouryuu explained. He looked unsure of how to set her down without risking injury to himself. He stepped towards Ranma hopefully. "Um... could you...?"

"No, don't-!" Too late, Kouryuu unwittingly brought Shampoo within glomping range and she immediately latched on to Ranma.

"Airen!" she cried, as Ranma collapsed to the dojo floor with her weight on top of him. Inverted as she was, and apparently freed from Kouryuu's hold, Shampoo's legs wrapped themselves nimbly around Ranma's head. At that moment he realized, with a sudden stab of fear and panic, that this was quite probably the absolute most compromising position he had ever found himself in, bar none.

"RANMAAAH!"

_Right on cue,_ he thought, with growing dread.

Ranma could glimpse, just past Shampoo's shapely thighs, Akane running up with her bamboo sword in hand. She started pounding it against Shampoo's exposed back.

"Get off of him, you hussy!" Akane screamed.

_Please don't,_ Ranma thought in panic. As awkward as it was to have Shampoo wrapped so snugly around him, as soon as she moved he would be wide open.

As Shampoo jumped to her feet, she managed to slam Ranma's head against the floorboards. An errant thought floated through his offended skull: _This day has been fantastic._ Ranma almost expected to die in the next few minutes from a lethal does of irony - if one of his fiancées didn't kill him first.

"Akane want fight?" Shampoo snarled.

Akane looked ready to respond in kind, but Kouryuu stepped swiftly between the two combatants. "I won't have you attacking students and residents of this dojo," he told Shampoo in no uncertain terms. Ranma watched from his vantage on the floor, wondering if Kouryuu knew what he was getting himself into.

Shampoo narrowed a hateful glare at him. "Fine," she snapped curtly. "Shampoo fight YOU. Stupid man is in need of killing anyway."

"Very well," Kouryuu sighed. His eyes hardened. "But I warn you, if you wish to fight me, I won't hold back. I am prepared to use my most fearsome technique."

Shampoo shifted uneasily but met his iron gaze and maintained a ready fighting posture. "What you talking?"

"A technique so terrible, so secret..." Kouryuu continued, "you will never see it coming."

_Uh-oh,_ Ranma thought. Kouryuu's entire style was based on his ability to hide his attacks. Was he about to bring out some truly unreadable super-move?

Kouryuu raised a hand, palm forward - and then spun on his heel, ran to the dojo wall, leapt over it in a single bound, and was gone.

For a moment Shampoo stood, obviously as stunned as Ranma felt. Then rage twisted her features. "Stupid man come back here! You no run Shampoo!" She dashed off and up over the wall in pursuit of her vanished opponent.

_That looked a lot like the Saotome secret technique,_ Ranma mused. In light of that, he could only assume that Kouryuu knew what he was doing.

"Well," he commented, getting to his feet. "Glad that's over."

A low growl sounded in his ear. "Ranmaaa...!"

Ranma yelped and jumped back. "A-Akane! It wasn't what... I can explain!" He waved his arms frantically. Akane just stalked towards him, gripping the handle of her bamboo sword as if she meant to crush it. Now seemed like a really good time to follow Kouryuu's example and run from the enraged female. Ranma started backing away, but realized that Akane was blocking the only exit.

Akane took a swing at him that probably would have shattered stone - he narrowly ducked it.

"Akane, will you please just-!"

One of the few lingering students chose this moment to step in the way. "Please, miss, if you'll just calm down and let Sensei expla-"

"Get out of my way!" Akane roared at him, bringing her weapon to bear on the hapless student.

Silent alarms went off in Ranma's head as he watched the bamboo shaft arc towards the young man's unprotected flank. Ranma's hand shot out and caught it just as it was about to impact on the student's ribs. With a twist and a yank he disarmed Akane, who stared at him astonished.

"Don't," he said, pointing the bamboo sword at her reprovingly. "Don't... attack my students."

Akane took a step back, her eyes wide.

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned to the narrowly rescued student. "You. You're a beginner here, right?"

The somewhat shaken student nodded dumbly.

"Remind me next time that you beginners need a lesson in basic defense against an armed opponent."

"Sa-Saturday, sir?" the student stammered.

Ranma blinked. "What?"

"Next beginners' class is Saturday. You... want me to remind you then, Sensei?"

Ranma paused. What was this about? _Sounds like I need to have a chat with Nabiki,_ he thought.

"That'll be fine," he said in response to the student's question. "Thanks. You c'n go now."

The young man scurried out, followed by the last remaining students, all glancing back over their shoulders, variously confused, nervous, or even frightened. Ranma hoped Akane's outburst hadn't scared any of them off permanently.

Forcing his eyes to fix on the open doorway, Ranma marched past Akane, willfully exposing his back to her.

"Ranma..." His foot poised to step out of the dojo, Ranma suppressed a flinch, expecting a blow rather than this simple utterance. He stopped, cocking his head to show he was listening, but didn't turn around.

"How..." Akane began, controlled anger in her voice, "how do you expect me to believe... that you weren't doing ANYTHING wrong?"

Ranma thought about this for a while. Finally, he had to answer, "I don't." She'd never believed him before, he hardly expected her to start now. He just wished she would.

"Dummy," her voice came in a quiet whisper. He realized she had come forward and was standing right behind him now, close enough to touch.

WHAM!

_Aw, crap,_ Ranma thought as he plummeted earthward and the pond seemingly rose up to meet him like the bull's-eye of a target. The water engulfed him with a cold splash, the change overcoming him swiftly, uncontrollable and involuntary like a full-body sneeze.

_Well,_ Ranma thought as she clambered dripping up onto the grass. _At least she waited to dunk me until all the students were gone._

* * *

A throat-clearing noise came from the open door to Nabiki's room. She looked up from the household accounts and some homework that she had spread out before her on her bed.

"Ah, Ranma. You're back. Have fun repairing the schoolyard with Ryouga-kun?" She smiled sweetly, but then frowned. "You're filthy. And you're dripping on the carpet - stay in the hall." Nabiki made shooing gestures with one hand.

Ranma, her face dour, made no move to enter, much to Nabiki's satisfaction.

"What's all this about having class without me?" she challenged Nabiki. "And why isn't the next beginner's class meeting until Saturday?"

"Funny you should ask," Nabiki replied evenly, toying with her pencil. "Those are almost the same question, really - or, at least, they have the same answer."

"And?" Ranma prompted impatiently.

"I'm getting to it." Nabiki paused a moment for effect, turning her attention back to the work in front of her. When she felt Ranma had stewed enough in her own impatience, Nabiki continued, but kept her eyes on her work, making a few marks here and there as she explained. "I've divided the novice and advanced classes up into sessions that meet every other day - so all of the experienced students have class Monday- Wednesday-Friday, and all of the beginners have class Tuesday-Thursday- Saturday." She grinned up at Ranma. "Sundays we're closed."

"Yeah, so? How the hell could you go and have class without ME?"

"Oh, yes, that's the other part of this new arrangement," Nabiki replied, as if she had just remembered. "We won't be needing you to do any teaching on Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Saturdays. Kouryuu will be taking on the beginner classes from now on."

"What?" Ranma fairly exploded. "But I'M the senior instructor!"

"In all fairness, Kouryuu IS older than you - by almost ten years," Nabiki responded readily. Ranma opened her mouth to retort, but Nabiki held up a hand, stalling her. "And... to be honest, I know I can trust you to give the advanced students the workout they're paying for, but can I trust you not to be too rough on the beginners? I think they could use a gentler hand to help lift them up the first few steps - at least until they get closer to your level." She raised her hand, palm up, to illustrate her point.

It was at best a half-truth, Nabiki knew. In reality, she wanted Kouryuu to train the less experienced students because she felt he would be infinitely more levelheaded and understanding with them. Training students who already had a fundamental grasp of martial arts, that was one thing, but Nabiki seriously doubted Ranma had the patience to teach novices from the ground up. So far her observations had confirmed this.

Ranma, however, didn't seem to swallow her explanation.

"'Gentler hand?'" she questioned contemptuously. "'Gentler hand?' Do you think it was a 'gentle hand' that got me where I am today?" By now Ranma had stalked right up to the edge of Nabiki's bed, dripping muddy water on the floor. "Are you forgetting what Pop's idea of 'training' looks like? Are you forgetting what it DOES to someone?" Ranma gestured down at her soaked, dirty clothes and female body. "Do you think a 'gentle hand' did THIS?"

"Ranma..." Nabiki said after a moment. "Kasumi JUST cleaned in here."

Ignoring Nabiki's complaints, Ranma forged on. "What makes you think YOU know even the first thing about teaching martial arts, Nabiki? My students don't need a 'gentle hand' - they need a sensei!"

Nabiki smiled inwardly. For the first time, it became crystal clear that Ranma was in this thing all the way. Ranma hadn't made any dramatic effort to duck out of teaching classes since the open house, and now had even come to challenge Nabiki about making unilateral decisions behind the scenes; Nabiki hadn't dared to hope for any better signs than that. But the words "my students," straight from Ranma's mouth, immediately banished any remaining doubts: Ranma had graduated from unwitting pawn to willing participant.

Nabiki slid to the edge of her bed and stood, meeting Ranma's gaze evenly. "All right, Ranma. We'll work on the teaching schedule some more. But there may be days when Kouryuu will be teaching, and you'll have to take a backseat and follow his lead if you want to be there. Can you do that?"

Fists clenched at her side, Ranma looked away, gritting her teeth. "Yes," she bit out reluctantly.

Nabiki gave an approving nod. "Good. If you want to remain senior instructor, I do expect your full cooperation in this, Ranma."

"No," Ranma shot back.

For once, Nabiki didn't know what to say.

"That's not how it's gonna work, Nabiki." Ranma's eyes were surprisingly hard. "I expect YOUR full cooperation. Next time you have some bright idea about who should teach what, or who should train when, you talk to ME first. Got it?"

Taken aback, Nabiki recovered her poise quickly. "You of all people should know," she returned with a note of warning in her voice, "that it's not wise to threaten me."

Ranma shook her head. "I'm not threatening, Nabiki. I'm not askin' either. I'm telling. You know you can't do this thing without me. You may think, hey, it's only been a few days - but the students know me now. Today, I saw that - I realized, I'M their sensei. They trust me; they respect me. Can't say the same for you."

Nabiki felt it would be imprudent to point out that the students likely respected and trusted Kouryuu more than they did Ranma.

"Okay then," Nabiki replied, deciding to humor her new... business partner. "I'll make sure to discuss these things with you in the future. But don't expect too many more changes."

"Fine with me," Ranma said. "I've got enough things changing on me already." She looked down at herself. "I guess I'd better go and-"

"PIG-TAILED GIRL! MY LOVE!"

"Yaaaaaaaaah!"

WHAM! The floor shook as Kunou's head slammed violently into it.

"Will you get a clue, Kunou!" Ranma barked at him.

"Kunou-chan, what are you even still doing here?" Nabiki asked wearily. "Training has been over for nearly an hour."

"I heard the angelic voice of my pig-tailed goddess calling to me in distress, but I knew not from whence or wherefore she shouted so." Apparently undeterred by the lump the size of a goose egg that was growing from the top of his head, or the fact that his kendo-gi was now damp all down the front from squeezing the very wet "pig-tailed girl," Kunou leapt to his feet. "What beleaguers thee, my love?"

Ranma opened her mouth, then shut it as her gaze fell on Nabiki. The rare glint of slyness that entered Ranma's eye made Nabiki feel suddenly uncomfortable.

With a theatrical flare, Ranma put a hand to her face. "Oh, Kunou my darling. I have learned of your secret engagement - to that woman!"

Nabiki felt her heart skip a beat as Ranma's finger jabbed in her direction.

"No!" Kunou looked to Nabiki, then back to Ranma. "Lies! It is not true, I tell you!"

"It is, it is! Your fathers' agreed, and now you are engaged to be married! I cannot come between you," Ranma said in feigned sadness. "Goodbye, my love!"

Ranma danced from the room, a look of badly suppressed glee on her face. Nabiki glared after her.

Kunou sat heavily on the floor. Nabiki watched him, wondering how he was going to react. She had expected him to chase after Ranma, or at least collapse in howls of anguish, but he seemed to be taking it remarkably well.

Nonetheless, his hands shook as he gazed at them in apparent horror, as if lamenting their powerlessness. "Oh, that fate, like a storm at sea, hath torn me from the twin atolls of my love and cast the ship of my heart upon YOUR rocky shoals!"

Nabiki crossed her arms and glared at him. "For your information, Kunou-chan, my shoals are NOT rocky." Not that HE would ever have the opportunity to find out. "Besides, it's not like I'm any happier about this whole situation than you are, kiddo."

Kunou favored her with a suffering look. "How can you possibly compare my heart's woe to your own petty frustration? You have no love that is taken from you by this gross shackling." He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Your only love is the procurement of wealth! You have not been shorn from your intended!"

"Oh, I don't know," Nabiki replied. "That Piku guy was kind of cute." While it was technically true, she said it mostly to annoy Kunou - and succeeded, she saw, as his face reddened.

"Hasegawa, that cur!" Kunou bellowed indignantly. "You would do better to marry a pack-mule-! Ha!" Kunou seemed to catch himself, sobering. "I see you speak his name only to bait me. Well I shall not be thus abused, Tendou Nabiki. I well know you have no use for men beyond the means they might provide thee. And moreover, that Hasegawa, why he is no man at all."

Nabiki smirked, hiding her surprise at Kunou's show of level- headedness. "No, that would be Ranma."

"Indeed," Kunou agreed readily. "Saotome is no man, but a foul demon who makes but ill use of those around him without regard for sentiment." Kunou's eyes flicked in her direction. "Somewhat like a certain Tendou daughter whom we both know."

Nabiki snorted. As if KUNOU had any right to admonish HER. "Kunou-chan, you really need to get more in touch with reality."

"And you, Tendou Nabiki, need to get more in touch with humanity." And with that he rose and strode from the room, leaving Nabiki to puzzle over his final, cryptic utterance.

* * *

Ranma didn't dare hope for an instant that she was truly free of Kunou's harassment for good. All the same, she laughed to herself as she began rinsing the day's excessive dirt away. She was still chuckling when, quite unexpectedly, the door to the bath opened, and Preston stepped in wearing a towel around his waist.

For a moment, he just stared at Ranma, and she stared dumbly back at him. Then he backed out, and closed the door behind him. Ranma exhaled, relieved.

"So, are there four beautiful women living in this house, Ranma, or just three and a half?" Preston's voice came through the door, almost making Ranma jump.

"Uh... yeah..." Preston must have been nearby and seen Ranma get punted into the pond earlier. "I guess you've figured out my secret then..." She supposed that it had been bound to happen at some point. Not much of a secret if everyone just found out eventually, one way or another.

"So were you originally a guy or a girl?" Preston asked, still speaking through the door.

"I'm a guy," Ranma grumbled. Then something clicked in her mind. "Hey, how did you...? You... you KNOW about Jusenkyou?" A frightening thought struck Ranma. "You haven't actually BEEN there, have you?"

"Long time ago..." Preston replied simply. And then added after a pause, "So does this make you only half a man?"

"Hey! I'm still one-hundred percent man!"

"Says the busty redhead with the cute voice."

"Shut up! Wait, if you've been to Jusenkyou... what spring did YOU fall into?"

"Ma-niichuan."

Ranma blinked. "What's that? Spring of Drowned... Horse?"

"No, Spring of Drowned Yer Mom! Now hurry up with your bath, lady. I need to get my clean on!"

"Don't call me lady," Ranma griped, snatching the soap from the soap dish and wondering at the foreigner's bizarre verbal antics. She should have realized that if Preston had really been to Jusenkyou, they probably would have seen him change by now.

Preston's voice came again after awhile. "I have to say, Ranma, I'm curious..."

Ranma felt the hair at the back of her neck stand up at his words, fearful of where the strange foreigner's thoughts were taking him.

"Has being part female given you any insight into women, like how they think?" Preston finished.

Ranma was so relieved by the innocuous nature of the question that she let out an involuntary bark of laughter.

"Does that mean no?" Preston questioned.

Ranma shook her head, even though Preston couldn't see the gesture. "Some of the things girls do, I guess I can understand a little better, since I've had this body," Ranma replied. "But I'd say on the whole I get them less now than I ever did."

"Huh. Really? So did you interact with women a lot before you got cursed?"

Ranma considered. Attending an all-boys school and going on constant training trips hadn't presented a lot of female company, so... "Actually... No."

"Oh. Maybe that has something to do with why you understand women less now than before."

"Whaddya mean?"

"'The more I see, the less I understand.' That's the way it goes."

"Ya think so?" Ranma wondered where the quote was from or if Preston had just made it up. She finished rinsing off the soap and climbed into the tub.

"Do YOU understand women?" Ranma questioned, his voice returning to a more comfortable male timbre.

"Not really," Preston admitted readily as he slid the door aside and stepped back into the room. He gestured to the faucet and pantomimed scrubbing his hair. "Do you mind? No running water over at my place yet..."

Ranma waved a hand. "Go ahead; we're both guys now."

Preston sat and unhooked the mobile shower-sprayer from its cradle. "People in general don't make sense, Ranma. That's just something you've got to understand. Or accept, I guess - can't really understand it, what with it not making sense and all."

Easy for him to say, someone who, at least until now, never really seemed to make much sense himself.

"Speak for yourself," Ranma replied. "I make sense. Akane does NOT make sense. Guy, girl - see the difference?"

"Well," Preston said thoughtfully, soaping up his long hair, "RIGHT NOW you're a guy. But what about later?"

"I'm a GUY," Ranma reiterated.

"Sure, sure," Preston agreed, somewhat dismissively. "But why do you say Akane doesn't make sense? She's a girl all the time, right? THAT makes sense. Seems to me that spontaneous gender-switching makes a lot less sense than, well... not."

"Will you shut up about that?" Ranma protested. "She doesn't make sense BECAUSE she's a girl all the time! Even when she is acting like an angry, violent, macho tomboy."

"Really?" Preston said, sounding surprised. "Never seen her acting like that. Well, angry and violent, sure, but macho? Tomboy?" He shook his head. "Well, I've spent the past few years in America, so I guess most Japanese girls seem girly to me. Different cultural standards."

Ranma scratched his head, trying to wrap his mind around what this obviously cracked foreigner was saying. "How the hell can a girl be angry and violent WITHOUT being a macho tomboy?" The question sounded almost like a Zen koan, with something fundamentally fascinating about it's seeming unanswerability.

"I don't know," Preston confided, "but it is DAMN cute, isn't it? Like your friend Ukyou-san, for example."

"Okay, so now you're claiming a girl can be angry and violent but NOT a macho tomboy, AND... that it somehow makes her CUTE?" Ranma asked, bewildered. Then he did a double-take. "Whoa, wait, did you just say UCCHAN is like that? And did you just call her Ukyou-SAN?" Ranma's head was practically spinning.

"Yeah. She's angry a lot, and she gets violent - normally I can't stand that kind of person, but somehow it just makes her even cuter. Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"

Yes, it did sound a bit crazy. But crazy was hardly anything new to Ranma, and certainly nothing new from Preston. However...

"Hold on a minute," Ranma said. "Back up. You like Ucchan?"

"Duh!" Preston answered as he rinsed out his hair. "Who wouldn't? Hey, did you know she's in love with you?"

Ranma waved this unimportant detail aside. "Yeah, yeah, I know that. So you're saying, like, you really LIKE her?"

"She's great!" Preston's eyes seemed to glow. "So lovely, but so confused. She's like... like a beautiful tangle of Christmas lights just waiting to be unraveled." His fingers twitched in front of him, as if he were anticipating doing just that.

"Uh, yeah, the hand thing?" Ranma pointed. "Creepin' me out."

"Sorry." Preston placed his palms on his knees.

"So let me get this straight," Ranma began. "YOU like Ucchan. You know Ucchan likes ME."

"Uh-huh."

"So... why aren't you trying to kill me?"

Preston shrugged. "Should I be?"

"Well..." Ranma thought for a moment. "It's what I'm used to."

"The way I see it, Ranma, it's hardly your fault that Ukyou-san likes you. She's obviously deluding herself," Preston explained. "I mean, hey, you seem like a pretty cool guy; I've got nothing against you personally. In fact, I wish you a very happy life with Akane."

"Hey!" Ranma protested. "Who says I WANT a happy life with that dumb tomboy?"

"What, so you want an unhappy life with her?"

"No! Argh, that's not what I mean!"

"Okay. What DO you mean then?"

Ranma paused. He opened his mouth - shut it. He looked away, suddenly finding something very compelling about staring at the mortar between the tiles on the wall.

"I can't understand her at all," he grumbled after a moment of silence. "She's always hittin' me and stuff for no good reason."

"Sounds like a match made in heaven," Preston commented.

Ranma caught the irony in Preston's voice, and smirked.

"Yeah. Or a match made in HELL maybe."

Preston seemed to ponder this. "Wouldn't a match made in hell still be legally binding? Or at least cosmically binding?"

Ranma snorted. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if she didn't get angry and fly off the handle all the time - I mean, jeez! And maybe if she BELIEVED me every once in a while! Or if she actually even bothered to stop and LISTEN in the first place, then maybe, maybe...!"

"Yeah?" Preston prompted as he soaped up his arms. "Then maybe... what?"

Ranma sank back in the tub. "Nothin'"

Preston was silent for a moment, concentrating on washing himself, but he did finally speak up again. "Hey, you can talk to me all you want, but have you ever tried talking to AKANE about this stuff?"

"Naw," Ranma replied sullenly. "She wouldn't listen anyhow. She never does."

"Well," Preston shrugged. "Just a thought."

Unfortunately, it was entirely too sensible a suggestion to actually work - at least not with Akane, since, as near as Ranma could tell, Akane and sensible seemed to mix about as well as water and oil. Or vinegar and baking soda.

And yet... Ranma supposed it couldn't really hurt to try. At least, not much more than usual.

* * *

Kouryuu knew that many people would be surprised to learn that, despite his dedication to the martial arts, he didn't really like fighting. Certainly, even the most intense contest of martial arts prowess could be enjoyable, as long as it didn't involve the negative emotions and intent to harm that Kouryuu associated with a "real" fight. He had never fit in with the other novices at the monastery, being Japanese by heritage, and it seemed like he had been in a fight every day of his young life. He was tired of that kind of desperate, angry grappling. All that Kouryuu cared to engage in now was martial arts for its own sake - and, when the occasion warranted, for the protection of others of course.

Which was one reason why he was now slipping quietly along the backstreets of Nerima, far from the Tendou Dojo and, he hoped, now also far from the girl who had called herself Xian Pu. As for the other reason, he had recognized her accent, and he had grown up near enough to Jouketsuzoku to know the dire consequences of winning against a Chinese Amazon. But he wasn't about to let himself LOSE to one, not in a real fight. If there was anything he hated more than a fight, it was the humliation of losing one.

Besides, one small girl could hardly present a decent challenge, even if she was from Jouketsuzoku. Maybe if there had been ten Amazons, Kouryuu mused, then his style would really have had a chance to shine. He had developed it to defend against multiple opponents ganging up on him after all.

"Excuse me..." a voice floated down to him from above. Kouryuu looked up. A long-haired young man wearing thick coke-bottle glasses and traditional male Jouketsuzoku garb was crouching on the gutter of a rooftop just above Kouryuu's head.

"Did you happen to see a beautiful purple-haired Chinese girl pass by this way?" the stranger asked politely.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did," Kouryuu replied. "I believe she went that way." He pointed.

"Thanks." The Chinese stranger bounded off over the rooftops in the direction Kouryuu had indicated.

"Be careful!" Kouryuu called after. "She was very angry when I saw her!"

The young stranger waved back in thanks for the warning as he disappeared over the peak of a high roof. Kouryuu hoped he knew what he was doing.

Returning his attention to his own predicament, Kouryuu assessed the situation. Free of pursuit by any homicidal Chinese Amazons, at least for the time being, he had only one problem left. He wasn't sure exactly where he was.

Kouryuu stepped out of the alley he had been working his way down and onto a shop-lined thoroughfare, trying to get his bearings. A passing youth met his gaze.

"Excuse me," he hailed the young man. "You wouldn't happen to know where the Tendou Dojo is from here, would you?"

The young man looked stunned for a moment, his mouth hanging open. "I... I was just about to ask YOU that!"

"Oh?" Kouryuu blinked in surprise. He took in the young man's ragged appearance, his backpack, and umbrella. Obviously he had been traveling for quite some time, and Kouryuu certainly didn't recognize him as a currently enrolled student. Could the Tendou Dojo already be attracting newcomers from so far afield?

"Why are YOU trying to get there?" the stranger was asking him.

"I teach there," Kouryuu explained simply.

"Teach there?" the young man repeated, puzzled. "Teach what?"

After a pause, Kouryuu replied slowly, "Martial arts..." wondering why this should be unobvious.

The young man smiled sheepishly. "Oh. Right. Heh. Um... I'm Ryouga by the way. Hibiki Ryouga."

"Pleased to meet you, Hibiki-san." Kouryuu bowed in greeting. "Kouryuu, at your service. So you say you're trying to find your way to the Tendou Dojo?"

"Mm," Ryouga nodded.

"Well, maybe we can find it if we work together. I'm fairly certain it's somewhere in that direction." He gestured.

"Really? And here I was heading that way," Ryouga said, pointing in the opposite direction - which was not, Kouryuu noted, even vaguely the direction the obviously confused young man had been headed in.

"I see... well, let's try this way first, and if we don't find the dojo, we can look in that direction."

Ryouga nodded agreement, and stepped out determinedly.

"Ah... Hibiki-san..." Kouryuu stalled him. "It's... this way."

Ryouga blinked. "Oh."

* * *

Nabiki was in a foul mood. Not only had Kunou's strange parting words been nagging her with an irritation she couldn't explain, but now her own big sister had found a way to inflict new frustration on her.

"Sis... did you HAVE to invite Preston to stay for dinner?"

"Well I couldn't just leave him to sit all alone in that big, empty house nextdoor," Kasumi replied matter-of-factly.

"Why not?" Nabiki asked angrily. "I'm sure he's perfectly capable of eating dinner by himself."

"Don't be ridiculous, Nabiki-chan," Kasumi chided as she put some finishing touches on the evening's repast. "Who would cook for him?"

Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Okay, well then why did you tell him to sit next to ME?"

"It only seemed reasonable," Kasumi said. "You're English IS best in the family after all."

Nabiki's hand went up to massage the bridge of her nose. Were people around her willfully trying to make her life more difficult, or did some deity just really hate her?

"In case you hadn't noticed, Sis, Preston SPEAKS JAPANESE."

"Well, yes," Kasumi replied, as if that went without saying. "But I wanted to make him feel as comfortable as possible."

_What about MY comfort?_ Nabiki raged silently.

"Besides," Kasumi was saying, "it will be a good chance for you to chat with Preston-kun. He's such a nice young man."

"No he isn't!" Nabiki objected. "He's a twit!"

"Really, Nabiki-chan," Kasumi scolded her, turning away from her cooking. "Don't be rude. He's our guest."

"That doesn't seem to stop him from being a twit," Nabiki shot back.

Kasumi seemed to consider this for a moment. "No," she finally replied. "I suppose not. But he's still a very nice young man."

Nabiki sighed. As if THAT made any sense. "Sis, have you ever even met someone you didn't think was nice?"

"I don't think so, Nabiki-chan," Kasumi replied readily, turning back to the makings of their meal. "But I'm fairly certain I've seen some on television before. They had AWFUL haircuts."

Nabiki leaned back against the kitchen doorjamb with a growing sense of defeat. "Sometimes, I can't decide who's more unbelievable," she commented. "The weirdoes who practice bizarre martial art forms and have crazy shape-changing curses - or the one who doesn't seem to find anything strange about it."

"Even cursed martial artists are perfectly decent people once you get to know them. No one is perfect, you know," Kasumi said in a maternal tone that was just a hair shy of condescending. She started placing dishes on a large serving platter. "Take our family for instance. We're far from ordinary. Father is prone to unusually extreme emotional outbursts, but he's still a fine man and a good father. Akane is hardly any better at controlling her emotions; she's incurably stubborn and horribly violent, but she's really a very sweet girl at heart. And then there's you, Nabiki-chan-"

"Okay, Sis, I get the point," Nabiki interrupted, somewhat loudly. She turned and retreated hastily into the dining area, not at all eager to hear what her sister had to say about her after the brutally honest assessment of the rest of the family.

Nabiki took her seat next to Preston, but refused to look at him or even acknowledge his presence. She had to sit next to him in class everyday, for crying out loud - why did Kasumi have to subject her to him NOW too?

Looking around for something else to focus her attention on, Nabiki was mildly surprised to discover Ranma's mother smiling at her from the other side of the table.

"Auntie Saotome," Nabiki greeted her. "When did you get here?"

"Only just a few minutes ago," she answered. "Kasumi called me earlier. She said she was making extra tonight and didn't want anything to go to waste." Nodoka's smile widened as she turned her gaze to her son sitting across the table from her. "Not that I think there's much risk of that, what with Ranma and that bottomless pit of a husband of mine."

Ranma grinned sheepishly, and Uncle Saotome, seated further down the table, just looked nervous - which wasn't really a change, since he had already been eyeing the tightly wrapped bundle laying at his wife's side with a slightly disturbed look in on his face.

But at that moment everyone's attention was diverted as Kasumi entered with a large tray laden with steaming bowls of rice.

"Do you need any help?" Preston offered as he watched her carry in the sizeable tray.

"Don't be silly," Kasumi said almost laughingly as she set a bowl in front of him. "Men don't serve the food."

Preston raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing.

As Kasumi placed the last bowl on the table, heads came up at the sound of the front door opening, and someone timidly announcing themselves.

"Maybe that's Kouryuu-san," Kasumi said, straightening up and heading out to meet the new arrival. "We won't have to start without him after all."

Nabiki doubted it was Kouryuu at all, unless his voice had gone up an octave or two since she'd last spoken to him - which she couldn't really rule out as entirely impossible. It happened to Ranma all the time, after all.

The truth proved much simpler, as a moment later Kasumi led in Akane's friend Emi. No, make that Akane and Ranma's homeroom teacher, Sakai-sensei. She was dressed in sensible business attire - that looked almost as good on her as it would have on Nabiki herself, Nabiki judged - so she was obviously here in an official capacity.

"Oh!" she said in embarrassed surprise as she stepped into the room and saw everyone sitting around the table ready for dinner. "I'm so sorry, it looks like I've come at a bad time."

"Oh, no, not at all," Kasumi assured her. "Please, join us."

"Yes, please stay, Emi," Akane put in.

"No, I couldn't possibly."

"I insist, you absolutely must stay." Kasumi smiled at Emi winningly.

Nabiki could practically see the young woman's reluctance melt away. _Hostess Kasumi strikes again,_ Nabiki thought.

"Well, if you REALLY insist," Emi said.

"I do, I do. Akane, please get out the folding table so that we have enough room for everyone."

Akane hopped up eagerly and retrieved the low folding table from where it leaned against the wall.

"I... I actually just dropped by to talk to Ranma's parents... about his grades."

Ranma, who had been slouching against the table and eyeing Emi warily and without favor, sat bolt upright and lost most of the color in his face.

"That would be me, then," Nodoka said, getting to her feet and bowing. "Saotome Nodoka. I'm pleased to meet you, Sakai-sensei." She waved a hand down the table at her husband. "You don't want to talk to him about anything serious, he won't listen.

"You really do have excellent timing, you know, since I'm not here all that often; I live elsewhere," Nodoka continued as she sat again and patted the cushion next to her. "Why don't you sit here next to me and we can talk ALL about Ranma's schoolwork." The fierce smile in her eyes, as she looked across the table at her son, was almost frightening.

Akane finished setting up the folding table flush with the main table, and sat down on Emi's other side.

The sound of the front door opening again echoed from the hallway, this time accompanied by the sound of two voices conversing, both distinctly male.

"Now, who could THAT be?" Kasumi wondered aloud, though quite cheerfully - how else?

A moment later, Kouryuu stepped into the room followed by Ryouga.

"I've returned," Kouryuu announced.

"Welcome back," several voices greeted him in a what sounded like a badly timed round.

"I'm sorry I'm late; I got a little lost," he explained as he stepped further into the room to allow Ryouga in - although Ryouga seemed to be more content hiding behind Kouryuu's tall frame.

"But it all worked out quite well," Kouryuu continued, "since I happened upon Hibiki-san here, who said he knew you and was looking for the dojo as well, and we helped each other find our way back."

"S-sorry to intrude," Ryouga stammered, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. He sent a glare at Ranma, but Ranma didn't notice since he was clearly too busy sweating as Emi discussed his severe academic shortcomings with his concerned mother.

"Oh, Sakai-san, good evening," Kouryuu said as he noticed her. "And... I don't believe we've met...?" He bowed to Nodoka.

Introductions were made and greetings were exchanged all around, and everyone got down to eating.

_Finally,_ Nabiki thought. She had started to worry that the interruptions would never cease. She wanted nothing more than to finish with this meal and leave Preston to his own devices - which could be as foolish or impudent as he wanted them to be, since as long as they didn't involve her she hardly cared. Admittedly, he had been remarkably subdued so far, and hadn't done anything obnoxious YET, but Nabiki figured it was only a matter of time.

Some people tried to chat amiably, but the multiple interpersonal tensions and anxieties around the table kept the mood a bit strained and awkward at best.

"This has turned into quite the dinner-party, hasn't it?" Father commented with a slightly forced smile as he ate.

"Party?" Preston broke in, speaking for the first time since Kasumi had started serving them. "What's a party without music?" And with that he got up and left.

"What a funny young man," Kasumi remarked after he'd gone.

"Don't you mean a twit?" Nabiki corrected.

"Nabiki-chan, stop saying that."

"Do you think he's coming back for the rest of this?" Ranma asked, eyeing Preston's nearly untouched meal.

His mother looked ready to slap his hand if he made a move for the food. "Well, he didn't say he was finished yet, so don't you touch it."

For her own part, Nabiki hoped the frustrating foreigner didn't come back. But a few short minutes later, Preston reappeared - with a guitar dangling from his grip.

Without so much as a word, he pulled his cushion away from the table to give himself some room, sat, and, his eyes intent on the guitar strings, started playing.

And played quite well, much to Nabiki's surprise - and to the surprise of just about everyone else, Nabiki saw by the expressions on their faces. Across the table, Auntie Saotome smiled and swayed very slightly in appreciation, and Father got the distant, serious look he always got when he was enjoying something.

Scattered applause greeted the end of his impromptu performance - Nabiki tried to make her claps as small and contemptuous as possible, to hide the fact that she was genuinely impressed. Preston just grinned, looking slightly embarrassed, which Nabiki thought a novelty.

Preston held up the guitar. "Anyone else wanna take a turn? My finger's'll just get tired if I keep it up too long."

Father cleared his throat. All heads turned to him.

"Well," he said. "It's been a long time, but... I suppose I might give it a try.

"I didn't know you could play the guitar, Dad," Akane said in astonishment as Preston walked over and handed it to him.

_She doesn't remember,_ Nabiki realized. Father hadn't picked up a guitar since their mother had died well over ten years ago.

Nevertheless, his fingers seemed to curl around the instrument as though they belonged there. He plucked a string experimentally.

Nabiki almost held her breath, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. Was he really ready to try THIS again, after so long? Could he step back into the shoes of the younger, more stable man he had once been, back when he had trained students at the Tendou Dojo?

Father played a brief scale.

"It HAS been a long time," he muttered, mostly to himself.

But, after a few false starts, he launched into a slow, rhythmic piece that instantly sent Nabiki reeling back in time. With an unexpected sting of nostalgia, the image of her father, playing the very same tune at her childhood bedside, flashed before her mind's eye. Nabiki remembered how she would always remain awake to hear the end of the song while her sisters both drifted off to sleep before her. It was a memory she hadn't thought about in years, and it unsettled her to have it so suddenly and forcefully recalled to her mind. Nabiki rarely thought about her childhood anymore. Looking back on the happy innocence of that time always made her feel oddly... weak.

Nabiki took a deep breath, trying not to make it sound like a sob or a sigh. Maybe her father's rediscovery of the guitar was more trouble than it was worth.

"That was so pretty," Akane said when their father had finished, looking like her eyes were about to tear up. Nabiki desperately hoped hers weren't.

"Yeah, I liked that," Preston said approvingly from beside Nabiki. "Can you play something fast?"

"Hmm..." Father frowned down at the guitar strings. He played a little bit of something more rapid. "You mean like that?"

"Yeah, just like that. That was good," Preston responded with rising enthusiasm. "Sounds kind of... Spanish, or something."

"I don't remember you ever playing anything like that, Father," Kasumi commented.

Father grinned at her over the finger-board. "I used to serenade your mother with tunes like that one, when we were young. She thought it was terribly exotic."

"Go ahead and play some more of that," Preston urged. "That's the kind of music a party needs."

Father shrugged a little, as if to say, "Very well," and started playing again. Preston bolted down his food faster than Nabiki's eye could follow, and then suddenly grabbed her hand, making her jump.

"C'mon," he said, pulling her to her feet. "What's a party without dancing?"

Nabiki tried to resist, but even she wasn't immune to the festival mood that seemed to be infecting everyone in the room - except Preston, who, as near as Nabiki could tell, was always in the festival mood.

Still, she tried to keep her cool as Preston danced her about like he'd had too much to drink (but without the usual lack of coordination).

"Preston... what are you doing?" she asked in a voice pitched so only he could hear her. She tried to give him a wary look, but she was having trouble not laughing at his antics, especially since everyone else in the room had already given into the impulse.

"Dancing, what does it look like?" he replied.

But, even without taking a good look around the room, Nabiki could tell that Preston had, almost single-handedly, changed the atmosphere and tone of the gathering completely in just a few minutes. Whereas most people at the table had been eyeing or ignoring each other with various levels of irritation or anxiety, now everyone was clearly enjoying themselves, laughing and tapping their toes to the music. It was, to say the least, impressive, even to Nabiki who considered herself well versed in directing the ebb and flow of human reaction and emotion.

The song Father had been playing ended, and Preston grinned and bowed to her as more laughter and clapping rang out. Nabiki just lifted an eyebrow at Preston and let slip half a smile - for show, of course.

"Now that's good music for dancing," Preston remarked loudly to the table.

"You're up to something," Nabiki said to him in an undervoice as he accepted the guitar back from Father, who handed it across the table to him.

Preston just grinned at her again. "We used to party like this back in America."

"I thought you said you weren't from America."

"I'm not. We used to party like this in New Zealand, too."

"So you're from New Zealand then?"

His grin broadened. "Nope."

"Canada? England? Ireland?" Nabiki wracked her brain. "The Bahamas? Guam?"

Preston winked at her as he slung the guitar strap around his neck. "Hong Kong."

Nabiki just rolled her eyes.

* * *

"So... Kouryuu-san," Emi said. "You don't dance?"

Besides him, everyone had gotten up at least once to make fools of themselves as Akane's father and Preston took turns playing, although Ranma's father, Genma, had disappeared somewhere fairly early on. Akane had persuaded Emi to dance already - which for some reason had seemed to annoy Ranma, much to Emi's mystified satisfaction. Even Ranma himself had reluctantly gotten up to take an unenthusiastic turn around the room at the urging of his mother.

Kouryuu looked away. "I, ah, never learned," he replied, a bit sheepishly.

Considering the grace and agility he had shown in their brief sparring match a few days before, not to mention everything she had seen of him since, Emi guessed that he would have no trouble improvising.

"I grew up in a monastery," he explained. "Monks don't engage in that sort of thing. Too... improprietous."

"A monastery?" Emi repeated. "That's unusual."

"Yes, well, if they hadn't taken me in, I probably would have died of exposure in the mountains - or possibly been eaten by tigers."

"Tigers?" Emi blurted, and then felt like a parrot, repeating his own words back to him yet again. "In Japan?"

"Oh, no," he smiled. "I grew up in the Qinghai province of China, near a place called Jusenkyou. Have you heard of it?"

Emi shook her head dumbly.

"Not surprising. It's a long way from civilization." Kouryuu sipped his tea and went back to watching the festivities, still seeming somehow apart from them despite being in their midst.

Emi had hardly thought that the tall reserved man could become any more of an enigma, but learning about his origins had only seemed to deepen the mystery. And yet, there was still something that seemed so obvious, so apparent about him. He was always very THERE - solid. When he looked at something, you knew he was seeing it, and when he listened to you, you knew he was hearing you. He seemed oddly caught somewhere between being a pinnacle of authenticity, and giving the lie to his smiles with taciturn silence.

Turning her attention back to the gathering, Emi noted that Akane and Ranma were still sending each other strange furtive glances from across the room, as if they were both trying to watch each other without letting on that they were watching.

"What's with them?" Emi leaned over and asked Kouryuu in an undervoice, seeing that his eyes were also following the odd interplay.

"My guess is that they each feel compelled to ask the other to dance, but they're too embarrassed or too shy."

"Why would they be embarrassed?" Emi wondered aloud. They had danced with other people already, after all.

Kouryuu shrugged slightly. "Young people get like that, I suppose. If they dance together, that sends a message, and I don't get the impression that either of them are entirely comfortable with their feelings."

_What message?_ Emi wondered. _What feelings?_

Then a sudden coldness hit the pit of her stomach.

"Kouryuu-san... will you excuse me for a moment?" she said somewhat stiffly. "I've... just realized something."

Kouryuu raised his eyebrows. "Certainly."

She tried to give him an apologetic look as she rose. Walking over to Akane who was sitting by her father as he strummed away at the guitar, Emi touched her young friend's shoulder.

"Can we talk?" she said as Akane looked up. "Now?"

"Sure," Akane answered, looking a bit bewildered.

Emi took her by the wrist and pulled her gently but firmly out onto the deck, where they were easily out of earshot of the rest of the party, all talking and laughing and playing music quite loud enough to prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

Emi took a breath, organizing her thoughts, and decided to cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"Why didn't you tell me that Ranma was your fiancé?"

Akane's eyes went wide, confirming Emi's words. "How did you... how did you know?"

Emi waved this away. "That's not important - I figured it out. Akane, how could you... RANMA is your fiancé!"

"I'm sorry." Akane fidgeted, looking downcast. "I thought... I mean, I knew you hated him, I thought if you knew..."

"Akane, this doesn't affect our friendship," Emi assured her. "I'm a bit angry that you kept this from me, but, Akane... it's RANMA. I mean, you don't even LIKE him."

Akane looked out into the yard in a way that worried Emi more than she wanted to admit.

"You said he was a jerk and a pervert!"

Akane looked down at the floor.

"Well?" Emi prompted her.

Akane said nothing.

Emi threw her hands up in exasperation. "What about all that stuff you said he did?" The charges of verbal abuse and infidelity that Akane had leveled at her fiancé seemed five times worse now that Emi had a name and a face to go with them - especially since it was one she already had such a low opinion of. She knew she was letting her personal distaste for Ranma as an obnoxious, self-righteous male get the better of her, but she trusted her own judgment even in that.

"What about that other girl, Ukyou?" Emi went on when Akane didn't respond, remembering the incident with Akane's strange transvestite classmate. "Didn't she claim she was Ranma's fiancée?"

"That's what SHE says," Akane said, looking away off at nothing again.

Some of the accusations against Ranma started to make more sense - stringing along other girls indeed. "Well, has Ranma done anything to... dissuade Ukyou of that notion?"

As the moon came out from behind a cloud, illuminating the dim porch, Emi saw that Akane's jaw was set, and tears were standing out in her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered in response to Emi's question, her voice barely audible over the noise from inside. Some of the tension seemed to drain away with that utterance; her voice gained a little more volume and confidence. "I... I think he has."

"You think?" Emi questioned.

"What do you expect me to do?" Akane suddenly snapped in obvious frustration. "Ask him?"

"Yes!" Emi shot back. "No, actually, don't ask him - TELL him."

"What?"

"Tell him, 'Ditch the other woman, or we're through.' Just like that." Emi thought it might be better if Akane just skipped to the "we're through" part. But it wasn't up to her.

"It's not that simple," Akane was saying. "Besides, he wouldn't do it. I think... he doesn't want to hurt Ukyou's feelings."

"Ranma doesn't strike me as that considerate," Emi returned blandly.

"You don't understand," Akane said, shaking her head. "They were best friends when they were little... I think maybe Ukyou was in love with him even back then." Akane smiled in a mix of bitterness and fond remembrance. "One time Ukyou made some okonomiyaki sauce that turned out absolutely awful. But Ranma told her it tasted good just because he didn't want to hurt her feelings." Her gaze went sad and distant. "He's never done anything like that for me. He won't touch my cooking."

"Maybe he respects you enough to tell you the truth. At least about some things."

Akane's expression looked somewhere between hopeful and fearful of this possibility. "But... then why doesn't he take me seriously as a martial artist?"

"I'm not saying he respects you as much as he should," Emi said, "or near as much as you deserve. But if he's willing to be honest with you, that's a good sign."

It should have been cold comfort to Akane, but by the look in her eyes, she seemed to grab a hold of the notion like a starving woman clutching at a crust of bread. That was what those looks between her and Ranma had been, Emi realized - two people, each starving for the attention and respect of the other, both barred by pride or circumstances from crossing the room to feed that hunger.

But what was holding them back? The presence of their families? That made a certain amount of twisted sense. Emi knew that if her family tried to set her up with some man, the last thing she would want to do would be to give them the satisfaction of showing she actually liked him.

"Honesty is important for a couple," Emi said, feeling a bit trite but wanting to encourage Akane in the right direction - although a less reasonable part of her was screaming at her to just march back inside and beat the tar out of Ranma.

"We're not a couple," Akane fairly growled, but seemed to lack conviction, as if saying it were just a conditioned reaction.

A new thought occured to Emi. "Have you even... told Ranma you like him?" Was this a secret tryst so secret that even its participants remained blind to it?

"What if I don't like him?" Akane retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Akane..." Emi said gently.

Akane's voice became very small. "What if he doesn't like me?"

Emi wished with all her heart that she could lie and tell Akane that Ranma clearly wasn't interested in her.

"I don't know how he feels," she said instead. "But neither will you until you ask him."

"It's not that simple," Akane said for the second time. "Besides, who says I want to know, anyway?"

"Want to know what?"

Emi spun at the sound, startled. Ranma had come up on them unawares.

"Pervert!" Akane yelled at him. "What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on us in the dark like that?"

"Who's sneaking?" Ranma snapped back indignantly. "You two are the ones who snuck off over here and started whisperin' about who knows what. What's the big secret?" He looked warily between them.

"The secret is you're an idiot, Ranma!"

"That's no secret," Emi put in before Ranma could respond. "It's common knowledge. I have records on file that prove it."

Akane burst into laughter.

"Listen, 'sensei,'" Ranma began, but suddenly stopped, his attention drawn by something out in the yard, his eyes suddenly alert.

"Hold on a sec." He disappeared into the darkness.

Akane drew closer to Emi, her voice gone abruptly fearful. "What do you think he saw?"

Emi shook her head, frowning out into the night. She couldn't make out anything.

"Do you think... could it be a burglar?" Akane whispered.

There was a sudden yelp from the darkness; Emi felt Akane jump beside her.

A moment passed in silence. Then Ranma's voice called out to them, "It's all right." He came trotting up carrying someone by the collar of their shirt. "No worries," he said, grinning. "It's only Gosunkugi." Emi recognized the scrawny nervous youth as one of Akane and Ranma's classmates.

"Who's this?" Kasumi's voice sounded from behind Emi, who turned to discover the eldest Tendou sister had come out onto the porch. "A friend of yours, Ranma?"

"Nah," he said, giving the boy a little shake, like he was a fish that was too small and should be thrown back. "Just Gosunkugi."

"Well, do bring him in for some dessert," Kasumi said, turning and going back inside.

Ranma shrugged and carried Gosunkugi up onto the porch.

"What are you DOING here?" Akane demanded of the sickly-looking young man, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

"She... she spoke to me..." Gosunkugi put a hand to his face, looking overwhelmed, as Ranma marched him past and into the house, making sure his shoes didn't touch the floor.

Emi noted the camera hanging from around his neck and put two and two together. _Creepy if otherwise harmless stalker,_ she surmised. It seemed there were a few other intricacies in Akane's obviously complex romantic situation that she had failed to mention. She certainly had more admirers than Emi had ever had - or ever wanted. Emi had to wonder why Akane had trouble believing in her own ability to attract and keep male attention. Not that Emi could count any one of Akane's current prospects as even remotely worthy of her, even in the most generous of assessments. Emi supposed that that arose from the fact that all of them were teenage boys.

But right now, Emi was wondering if it had been entirely wise to take on Ranma and Akane as students. She was having enough trouble just navigating their personal lives.

End Part III

* * *

Part IV can be heard on BBC radio with narration by Sir Ian Holm and all characters performed by the Cookie Monster.


	4. Part IV: Duel

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other copyright holders who are not me. All obnoxious original characters in this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

* * *

**Spring of Drowned Dojo**  
_The Life and Times of an Aquatransexual Martial Arts Instructor_

A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions  
written by Ambulatory Kettle

* * *

Part IV: Duel

As soon as Nabiki stepped into her classroom, she knew something was amiss. A hush fell, and the clustered groups of early morning arrivals all seemed to be watching her. Conversation resumed an instant later, but it was all in whispered tones, with glances skittered in her direction.

This was very wrong. Nabiki walked calmly to her desk and sat, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. _Just act normal,_ she told herself as she opened her schoolbag and began unpacking homework and other necessities for the morning lessons. _Act like everything is going according to plan, just like it always does._ Even if the unthinkable had happened, and Principle Kunou had somehow gotten his little "announcement" out, Nabiki was not going to panic.

While she was concentrating on keeping her cool, someone walked up and dropped something square and flimsy on her desk. Nabiki looked down at the object. It was a photograph. It must have been taken the night that Preston had brought out his guitar and instigated the impromptu party, because the picture clearly showed Nabiki dancing with him.

Nabiki looked up at Ukyou standing over her.

"What's this about?" Nabiki questioned warily.

"You tell me," Ukyou said, her expression quizzical.

Nabiki picked up the photograph, narrowing her eyes at the unguarded smile that had been captured on her features.

"Where did you get this?" she demanded.

"Off Gosunkugi," Ukyou replied, gesturing back over her shoulder. "He's been showing it around all morning. I imagine he has others."

Ukyou's eyes were searching Nabiki's for something; Nabiki doubted she was likely to find it.

All Nabiki could think was that Gosenkugi had a really good camera. The picture must have been taken from outside and a distance away, but he had still managed to catch Nabiki in the exact short-lived instant her control had slipped, without any signs of motion-blur or exposure problems. She imagined that the novelty of such an untoward display by her, Tendou Nabiki, would prompt anyone to show the picture around, whether or not they had something to gain from it personally.

"You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself," Ukyou commented, nodding at the photo, her voice neutral. "You should be more careful. You might lose your prized reputation as a woman of ice."

Nabiki glanced quickly around the room, at her classmates still furtively watching her, then back at Ukyou.

"Why are you showing me this?"

Ukyou shrugged. "You helped me out with Ranchan. I figured one good turn deserves another."

Nabiki smirked. Yeah, right.

"I didn't do you any favors, Ukyou. You know that's not how I operate. We had an arrangement, and I fulfilled my part of the bargain as promised. Besides, how do you figure that this -" she held up the photo "- is doing me a good turn? Looks to me that Preston-kun did me a turn better."

As expected, a spark of anger ignited in Ukyou's eyes. "Hey, I was just trying to be nice," she protested. "Rumor's about you and that- that WEIRDO are flying around the school like crazy already, and classes haven't even started yet. I thought you might want to know what people are saying about you and him."

"Oh?" Nabiki raised an eyebrow. "Why would I?"

The anger in Ukyou's face flickered and died away into dumbfounded silence.

Still holding up the picture, Nabiki continued. "Everyone was dancing with everyone that night. I happened to be dancing with Preston-kun when our creepy friend snapped this picture. I'm smiling because I enjoy dancing. Preston is grinning like an idiot because he's incapable of doing anything else. If you read anything else into it, you're clearly deluding yourself. Why should I care what people say after seeing this? The real question is..." Nabiki flicked the photo back to Ukyou, who caught it deftly. "Why do YOU care?"

For a moment Ukyou just stared at Nabiki, obviously shocked into silence by what she was implying. Then the anger rekindled into a full fire, and she glared.

"Well, that's the last time I try and do YOU a favor," Ukyou snapped. She spun on her heel and stalked to the door.

But as Ukyou reached for the handle, the door slid open - revealing none other than Preston himself.

"Ukyou-san," Preston greeted her, his voice a bit surprised.

From her desk, Nabiki watched as Ukyou glared up into his face. Then she shoved the photo roughly onto his chest, shouldered him aside, and stomped loudly off down the hallway. Preston watched her go for a moment, looking bemused, then glanced down at the photo that had ended up resting in his palm - he'd put up a hand to keep it from falling after Ukyou had thrust it at him.

"Hey, it's me!" He waved the photo. "Nabiki, this is a really good picture of you. I mean, you're actually smiling for real, for once."

Nabiki turned to look out the window, pointedly ignoring him.

Nonchalant as ever, Preston walked over to a cluster of boys and started showing them the picture. "Hey, check it out."

A few of the girls in the class took this as their cue to pounce on Nabiki, showering her with stupid questions.

"Is that really you in the photo?"

"Are you and Preston-kun dating now?"

"Are you two in love?"

"Is it true you're going to run away together out of the country?"

Nabiki didn't deign to answer. _Let them talk,_ she thought. Nabiki knew that soon enough her reputation would reassert itself, and this isolated incident would be forgotten, written off in everyone's memory as too far-fetched to have really happened. In the mean time, it would keep the rumor-mill busy, and hopefully leave no room for gossip about her and a certain other half-cracked kendoist.

* * *

"Daisuke-kun, have you seen Ranma?" Akane asked as he passed her on the stairs.

Daisuke pointed up. "Said he was heading up to the roof."

"Why?" Akane asked, puzzled. School was over; considering his recent enthusiasm for teaching at the dojo, Akane had half-expected to hear he had already rushed back ahead of her.

"Heck if I know," Daisuke replied, looking a little bit aggravated by his friend's odd behavior. "He's been acting weird lately, all quiet and stuff. In class he sits there like a statue -"

That much was no mystery to Akane. So far Ranma seemed unable to cope with having an intelligent, willful woman in a position of authority over him, especially since Emi didn't particularly like him and seemed to take pleasure in exposing his academic shortcomings.

"- and then at lunch its like he's on another planet," Daisuke continued. "Says he's planning stuff for the dojo. And he's been hanging out with that weird foreign kid too." Daisuke set off down the stairs again, shaking his head like a doctor contemplating a grave diagnosis.

Akane turned and continued her ascent, heading for the roof. For the past few days, something had been bothering Akane, and she had been unable to put a finger on it, except that it had something to do with Ranma. Of course, lots of various Ranma-related things bothered her off and on, but this was something out of the ordinary. She had tried to talk to Emi about it at lunch, but her friend-cum-teacher had obviously been in sensei-mode and had only lectured Akane on how she should really just break off her engagement with Ranma altogether.

"Most guys his age can't handle adult relationships. They're just boys who've gotten too big for their own good," Emi had pointed out. "Ranma is no exception."

That had finally tipped Akane off to what exactly was bugging her. She had resolved to talk to Ranma about it.

She found him standing at the railing, looking out over the cityscape, his hair riffling slightly in the autumn breeze.

Akane tucked her own hair behind her ear and walked to the railing a few feet away from where Ranma stood. He didn't move. Was he ignoring her? There was no way he hadn't noticed her.

"Ranma...?" she spoke to his silent profile.

He turned. "Oh. Akane. It's you." Ranma blinked. His distant expression seemed to focus back on reality at the sight of her.

"What... ah... what brings you up here?" Akane asked lamely, trying not to fidget.

"Just thinking," Ranma replied. "About the dojo and stuff." His gaze fell on her hands, and Akane realized she was twining and untwining her fingers. She gripped the railing to still them and steady her nerves.

"What's up?" Ranma asked, and Akane was surprised to actually hear a note of concern in his voice.

"I... wanted to apologize," she began, not sure how to formulate the strange mix of guilt and frustration into a coherent sentence.

"Ugh? What for?" Ranma asked.

"Let me finish." Akane barely kept herself from snapping. "I wanted to apologize for... striking out at that student the other day."

"Oh." Ranma looked blank for a moment. "Well... just don't do it again, I guess."

"Don't patronize me," Akane growled. It irked her to no end that HE, the ever-juvenile Ranma, had acted like the mature one when she had lost her temper and almost injured someone, but she wasn't about to let him rub it in.

"Hey, settle down." Ranma raised his hands in a warding gesture. "What're you apologizing to me for anyway? I'm not the one whose ribs you almost broke. If you wanna clobber somebody, take it out on me, at least I can handle it."

"Handle it?" Akane fairly spat. She'd told herself she wouldn't lose her temper - again - but so much for that. "You probably LIKE it, you pervert!"

"Like it? Are you crazy-!"

"Lovers' quarrel?" a new voice interrupted.

Preston stood watching them from the door to the stairwell, his hand resting on the strap of his backpack slung casually over one shoulder.

"We are NOT lovers!" Akane protested loudly, feeling her face burn with embarrassment.

Ranma turned his face away and leaned back against the rail in a show of casualness, but she had the distinct impression he was blushing too. "Like I'd even go NEAR some uncute tomboy like her!"

Akane had anticipated the hated words "uncute tomboy" and her fist was already flying full-force in Ranma's direction - but it came up short against something halfway. Something very hard. Akane's hand throbbed; the blind haze of rage fell from her vision, and she saw that her knuckles had connected solidly with the side of Preston's head, who was suddenly standing in between her and Ranma gazing over the railing.

"Ow!" Akane cried, shaking her hand out and glaring at the foreigner indignantly. Preston ignored her, seemingly completely unfazed by the blow to his cranium. He stared intently down at something on the school grounds.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?" she demanded, as much surprised as she was angry that Preston had so blithely inserted himself in the path of her attack, not to mention that it had apparently hurt her more than him. Ranma just stood looking nonplussed.

Preston didn't respond. His head was cocked to the side, either in a quizzical manner or as a result of Akane's punch.

"Isn't that your sister Nabiki down there?"

Akane followed his gaze. "Where?"

"Oh, yeah, I see her," Ranma broke in. He pointed. "There, sitting under that tree."

Akane looked to where Ranma pointed and saw her sister seated beneath a tree down below on the school grounds. Then another figure appeared: Kunou, crossing the lawn and heading towards Nabiki.

"Man, that's a strange sight if I've ever seen one," Ranma remarked as they watched Kunou join Nabiki in the shade of the tree.

"Those two have been thick as thieves lately," Akane said. "I wonder what they're up to..."

Preston just nodded pensively, looking about as serious as Akane had ever seen him. For about one tenth of an instant, she wondered if maybe there were some microscopic grain of truth to the rumors about Nabiki and Preston being "involved," before she realized that even contemplating that for too long was likely to give her an aneurysm, and possibly make the universe implode.

"More like, what's Nabiki up to," Ranma quipped. "As if Kunou could be 'up to something.' Nabiki's probably just using him to..." he trailed off as a light bulb seemed to go on in his head, filling his eyes with a sudden light of amusement. He started in on a low chuckle that quickly grew into full-blown laughter.

Akane frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Yeah, what gives, share the joke," Preston urged.

Ranma pointed down at the pair, who still seemed unaware that they were being watched. "They're engaged!"

"What?" Akane asked, bewildered.

"Huh?" Preston said. "Since when?"

"Uncle Tendou made the arrangements last week when Nabiki was trying to intimidate him," Ranma explained, suppressing his mirth with visible difficulty. "Nabiki damn near tore his throat out over it, but he never said anything about calling it off. I totally forgot about it, with all the stuff that's been going on lately."

"Was that what the Principal's announcement was supposed to be about?" Akane wondered aloud, remembering the truncated assembly speech that Kunou had so effectively sabotaged. "They must be working to stop it from getting out. Oh, poor Nabiki."

"Heh. I don't know if I feel more sorry for her, or for Kunou," Ranma said, smiling and shaking his head in obvious appreciation of the situation. After a pause, he added, "Nah, those two deserve each other!" Chuckling, his eyes still full of mirth, he turned away from the railing. "Well, I've seen enough. Let's get outta here."

Akane thought that he was being insensitive, but that was hardly anything new from Ranma. She chose to ignore it.

Preston pulled his backpack off and started rummaging in it. "I'll catch up with you guys later; got some stuff to do." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "The hopeless romantic and the cut- throat realist," he mused, as if talking to himself. He shrugged and continued searching through his bag. "Maybe they'll be good for each other?"

"They'll be good for something," Ranma said, heading for the stairs. He let out another guffaw. "Like about a million laughs!"

* * *

"Were you followed?" Nabiki asked as Kunou crossed his legs and sat down beside her on the grass in one smooth motion. "Did anyone see you come this way?"

"No," he responded simply.

"Good," Nabiki said. She glanced around just to be sure, but didn't see anyone about; most people had already left for the day.

Nabiki took a moment to collect her thoughts. But before she could even open her mouth to brief him on the latest events, Kunou broke in, "Would you care to explain this, Tendou Nabiki?"

He held out the now familiar photograph - or half of it.

"It's a photo of me dancing," Nabiki replied.

"And?" Kunou prompted. "What of the other half?"

Nabiki shrugged. "What of it? Did you lose it somewhere?"

Kunou gritted his teeth. "Your obstinacy is unbecoming. You know what I speak of - the other half of this picture, which the foreign rogue insisted on keeping. And what are these rumors I hear about you and he being romantically involved?"

Nabiki raised an eyebrow. "They're rumors, what else? And why are you so concerned?"

The tension in Kunou's posture eased visibly. "I should have known as much. While I cannot say it would be beneath you to take up with such a dog of the West as he -"

Nabiki bristled at this but didn't give Kunou the satisfaction of a verbal response.

"- I must say that these rumors trouble me by their very nature. Should you lose your well-deserved reputation as a she-devil among women, well..."

"Relax, Kunou-chan," Nabiki assured him. "You're thinking about this the wrong way. As long as they're talking about me and freakshow, they can't be talking about me and... anyone else. This just makes our job that much easier."

Kunou frowned at the photograph pensively. After a bit, he absently tucked the picture away in the front of his gi, his gaze still thoughtful. "Perhaps you are right," he said. "I pray that you are."

Nabiki noted where he'd put the photo. "What, you're keeping that? Kunou-chan, I didn't know you cared."

Kunou gave her a distinctly unamused look. "I mean to dispose-"

"Say 'cheese' you two!"

Nabiki leapt to her feet at the same time that Kunou did, finding herself gazing down the barrel of a camera that Preston was pointing at them menacingly.

"Don't you DARE!" Nabiki snarled.

"Desist, or I'll cleave that infernal device in twain!"

"Aw, you guys are no fun," Preston said, lowering the camera.

Kunou lowered his bokken in turn, but he held it ready at his side. "It seems that others are making inroads into your territory, Tendou Nabiki," he remarked to her. "Wasn't candid photography previously your own specialty?"

_You're one to talk; you buy up all my work_, she thought, but chose to ignore him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped at Preston.

"I could ask you the same."

Nabiki's mind balked on a response, but only for an instant.

"We're discussing the dojo."

"Oh?" said Preston looking interested. "You finally telling mister fancy-pants over here that he can shove it?"

Kunou met Preston's glare with equal ire.

The tensions between the two self-proclaimed leaders of the kendo dojo had been building since day one, Nabiki knew. _This is why so many business partnerships fail,_ she thought. _No singularity of purpose. No congruity of vision._ Unfortunately, as busy as she was these days, she had yet to come up with a solution that would satisfy both parties - or at least one that she could force down their throats with minimal effort and expenditure.

"Don't start," Nabiki broke in before Kunou could respond. "I don't want to hear your argument on 'hair-style appropriateness' again, thank you."

"Do you turn against me to side with this vulgar foreigner? To betray your Japanese spirit in matters of coiffure, Tendou Nabiki! Surely your ancestors do weep!"

Nabiki snorted. "Hardly."

"Well, you SHOULD side with me," Preston said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his half of the photograph - the half with him in it, "now that we're officially an item." He waved it at her. "Don't you think?"

Nabiki narrowed her eyes at him. "Hardly," she bit out.

"Suit yourself," Preston said, stowing the picture and turning on his heel. "I got places to go."

"Yes, get thee gone!" Kunou shot in his wake.

Preston didn't respond, but tense annoyance showed in his stride despite an obvious effort to appear unconcerned as usual. Nabiki decided that very soon she would have to do something about this contested leadership of the kendo dojo.

"His insolence rivals Saotome's," Kunou remarked. He glanced at her. "Do you think he suspected...?"

"Our real purpose? How could he?"

Kunou nodded in relieved agreement. He glanced aside at her. Reaching into the front of his kendo gi, he removed the half-photograph again and held it up to the light. "You know... you claim that he likes thee not, but I'll have you know he was loath to part with this."

"But he did," Nabiki pointed out. "Obviously he's more in love with himself, if he kept the other half but not that one."

"A compromise, of sorts. He did not wish to give up either half. I suppose I can comprehend his reluctance," Kunou held up the photo for her to see - as if she needed another look. "It is a most rare and unusual image of you. To look at this, one might almost imagine that you were... human."

Nabiki just glared at him.

"However," he said, as he stood and turned to go, "to think that, it would take a man more foolish than I."

"Yeah?" Nabiki called out after him. "Yeah? Well, there's damn few of those in the world!"

Too late - Kunou was gone, and her retort echoed lamely across an empty schoolyard.

_Damn him!_ Nabiki seethed. So far, Kunou had been surprisingly easy to work with. Nabiki had almost thought there might be more to him than the reality-blind imbecile he so often seemed to be. She should have known better.

* * *

"Emi-san - no, Sakai-san. I fear that I have made some - I want to apologize - no that's not right..."

Kouryuu had carefully planned out what he was going to say. Now he was standing at the gates of Furinkan High School desperately trying to remember it. Why did beautiful women have to make him so nervous? Moreover, why did Emi have to be one? She seemed like she would have been an enjoyable person to be around, if it weren't for that one undeniable fact. All he wanted to do was ascertain whether he had offended her somehow at the recent evening dinner, and apologize. If she were a man, it would have been easy. While Kouryuu found that he had acclimated himself to the females of the Tendou household to the extent that he could interact with them quite normally, his contact with Emi was intermittent enough that she still seemed to upset his balance.

"Kouryuu-san...?"

Kouryuu looked up. He'd heard the soft footfalls approaching and the creak and tick of a bike being walked out of the gate, but hadn't realized that it was none other than Emi herself, dressed in her karate uniform and ready to head to the dojo.

"Ah, Sakai-san, hello." He licked his dry lips, trying to formulate his words.

_Just imagine she's a man,_ he told himself, but found this exceedingly difficult to put into practice. About the only thing that Emi's appearance had in common with that of any man Kouryuu had ever seen was that they happened to have the same number of limbs - and even that seemed a strange sort of accident.

As he gazed down into her brilliant, waiting eyes, panic started to overtake him.

"I meant no forgive! Please insult me!" he blurted, bowing low.

Emi blinked, and frowned. "What?"

Kouryuu realized that in his haste, his words had come out not only in the wrong order, but in a jumbled mix of Japanese and Chinese. He didn't know whether to feel like even more of an idiot, or thank his dumb luck that Emi didn't understand Mandarin.

"Ah, ahem, that is, I mean," Kouryuu mentally fumbled for words. He took a breath, calming his embarrassment. "Would you... walk with me a ways?" he asked, gesturing down the roadside. He glanced at her bike. "I don't want to hold you up, but... there's a matter I'd like to... discuss."

"Um... okay, sure," she responded, looking a bit bemused. "I'm headed to the dojo anyway." She kicked her bicycle around to face the right direction, and they started walking.

"So what's this about?" she asked. "Is it something to do with Ranma? Or Akane?"

"Ah... no," Kouryuu replied.

Emi looked up at him expectantly as they paced down the road.

Kouryuu took a breath. "Did I... do something to offend you?"

Emi frowned. "No. Why?"

"The other night at the Tendou's... you seemed... upset. I thought maybe I'd said something."

Emi pulled a wry face at the street ahead of them and shook her head. "No, that was... something else. Sorry I ran off like that in the middle of our conversation, that was rude of me."

"Not at all," Kouryuu responded automatically. In actuality, he supposed it had been a bit rude, but he'd been so preoccupied thinking HE had been the rude one that it hadn't occurred to him. At any rate, he was much too relieved to feel offended now, so far after the fact.

"Can I ask you something?" Emi broke in on his thoughts.

"I... certainly," Kouryuu answered, not sure where this was going.

"This may sound like a dumb question," she said, "but did you know that Akane and Ranma were... engaged?"

Kouryuu blinked. "Yes. Of course."

Emi made a face again. "I didn't. Akane... neglected to tell me."

"That's odd," Kouryuu said somewhat lamely, feeling like the conversation was faltering from his inability to find anything useful to say. "I mean, that she didn't mention it."

Emi sighed. "Well, she had her reasons, I guess. She knew my view of Ranma was pretty negative, and she didn't want their relationship - if you can even call it a relationship - to reflect badly on her. I suppose I should be flattered that she valued my opinion of her so highly."

"Whatever discipline Ranma-san lacks as a martial artist now, he will learn in time," Kouryuu said, feeling obliged to put in a good word for the young man who was effectively his colleague and dojo-brother.

"Oh I'm not saying anything against his martial arts abilities," Emi replied hastily. "What I can't stand are his failings as a... as a teacher and a student, both. And as a man. Or maybe it's just the fact that he IS a -" Emi glanced up at Kouryuu, then away, and fell silent for a time.

"Do you really think they were too embarrassed to dance together that night?" she finally said.

"It looked that way to me."

"But, I mean... they're ENGAGED. Should they really be getting married if they're not even comfortable dancing together?"

_You should see them fight,_ Kouryuu thought, but just said, "Like I said before, I think young people just get that way sometimes."

Kouryuu stepped aside to get out of the way of a gray sedan coming up from behind them. As it drove past, the car's side mirror gave him a momentary view of the street at their backs.

"Speaking of young people," he said, "I believe we are being followed."

* * *

"Ranma, I don't like just following them like this. It's not right."

"We ain't following, we're just walking to the dojo, same as them."

"Well then why don't we catch up and we can all walk together?"

"Hey, you're the one who said you didn't wanna 'interrupt' them."

Whatever that meant. Ranma glanced up at the top of the fence beside him, his usual walking place. Better not; wouldn't want to draw attention to himself.

He narrowed his eyes at Kouryuu and Emi walking just a block or so ahead of Akane and himself.

"That's the second unlikely pair I've seen today," he commented, feeling a growing suspicion about the whole thing. "Can't say which is odder though."

Akane cocked her head to the side, looking at the two thoughtfully. "Oh, I don't know," she said. "Their not such an unlikely pair."

Ranma just stared ahead at the tall and short form walking side by side, wondering what Akane was seeing that he was missing. Taciturn but friendly, meet bossy and mean. Even proportionally they didn't match up; what was NOT odd about them walking together?

"How d'you figure THAT?" Ranma voiced his bafflement.

"I saw them talking at dinner on Thursday."

"Yeah? So?" Ranma challenged, and added mentally, _After all, I'm talkin' to Akane right now, but that don't mean I LIKE her or nothin'._

Akane smiled in girlish appreciation, which did little to settle Ranma's already somewhat befuddled nerves. "Well, it kind of looked like they wanted to dance together, but were too shy to ask."

Ranma couldn't imagine why a skilled martial artist like Kouryuu would want to dance with a violent, tomboyish girl like Emi. But eventually he had to admit, "Okay, so maybe it KINDA looked that way. But I'm not saying nothin' like that was really gonna happen, 'cause, you know, sometimes it LOOKS like a guy wants to ask a girl, but then REALLY-" Akane pulled closer to him as she huddled in to avoid a passing car, bringing him into sudden awareness of her body; her shoulder brushing against his arm, her hip pressing into his thigh. His mind flitted briefly to the safe distance of his fence-top. But then his gaze accidentally met with Akane's, and all thoughts and the rest of his intended sentence disappeared into a terrifying void that suddenly opened up inside his skull. He lost all sense of what he had been saying, but his mouth kept moving. "But then really... I... I mean, he doesn't, you know... know how to... ask..."

Akane stared up at him with her big Akane eyes. He thought he was about to fall headlong into them. Her lips parted.

"I..." she breathed. "I-" she looked away abruptly "-I wonder why they were embarrassed?" She laughed nervously. "S-silly of them."

"Uh, yeah!" Ranma agreed his eyes snapping back to the pair walking ahead of them. "Embarrassed! Ha!"

Akane moved away from Ranma, her cheeks slightly flushed.

After a moment of awkward silence, Akane said pensively, "Really, it doesn't seem like them. They're both such confident people normally. What do you think made them nervous?"

"I dunno," Ranma replied, still finding the subject strangely discomfiting. What made people nervous in such situations? He glanced over at Akane, her face turned away from him. He felt inexplicably compelled to reach over and put his arm around her, pull her back towards him. Could he? His arm twitched out. Should he...?

Would she bash his face? Probably. Ranma sighed and let his arm fall. Che... who would want to do that with some dumb, sexless girl like her anyway? Not Ranma, no sir.

"Don't ask me what made 'em nervous," he said. "I guess old people just get like that sometimes."

"Ranma! They're not 'old people!' Don't be rude."

"Okay, yeesh. You sound just like Kasumi."

Akane's outburst seemed to break the awkwardness and return them to more familiar territory, and Ranma felt an immense relief come over him. But strangely, the sensation was coupled with a counterpoint of regret, deep and fierce like a killing undertow.

His relief made sense, but what did he have to regret? He'd just narrowly escaped getting pounded - or worse. Still, if he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that a moment had just passed that he longed to return to, but feared to repeat.

_Doesn't matter now,_ he told himself, but even in his mind he lacked conviction.

A screech of tires interrupted Ranma's reflections, and something slammed full-force into his chest.

His first thought was, _Holy crap, I've just been hit by a bus._ He realized it was soft, but firm. His second thought was, _A bus made of marshmallows._

Then someone screamed, "AIREN!" and his third thought, whatever it might have been, was smashed out of him by the impact with the pavement.

* * *

"Why do you suppose they're following us?"

"Maybe they're not. We're all going to the dojo after all. Maybe they just wanted to talk privately - or walk privately."

Emi frowned. She opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly Kouryuu grabbed her and pushed her back against the fence; her bike fell to the ground with a clatter.

She felt her heart pounding from the shock as he gripped her shoulders - firmly, but not roughly. His tall frame filled her view, blocking out the street and the rest of Nerima. He was close enough that she could smell him, his scent dark and earthy, but pleasant.

Then she remembered herself, and glared. "Get back."

"I'm sorry. There was no time to warn you." Kouryuu stepped away, and gestured to a black streak of bike-tire treads that cut across the exact point where Emi had been walking just a few seconds earlier. He glanced at her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Emi said distractedly, her eyes followed the tire marks to where they ended - just in front of Ranma, who was lying prone with his arms pinned to his sides by an unfamiliar girl wearing Chinese clothing. The girl was clearly intent on hugging him to death. Akane was stalking away from both of them, her face a mask of controlled anger.

Emi ran up, indignation rising in her voice. "Are you gonna let her get away with that?"

Akane, who had been staring blindly forward, rounded on Emi. "Who cares what that stupid pervert-!" She blinked. "Wait... her?"

"Yes! Look, she's all over your fiancé!" Emi still held that Ranma wasn't a good match for Akane - or for anyone - but as long as Akane refused to break their betrothal, she certainly couldn't let other women just throw themselves at him, literally or otherwise.

Ranma had managed to struggle to his feet, but seemed to be having a lot more trouble extricating himself from the girl's passionate embrace.

"Leggo, Shampoo!"

"Ranma come date with Shampoo now?"

"No way! Get off me already, I gotta teach class at the dojo in like fifteen minutes."

The girl - Shampoo, obviously a foreigner by her name, dress, and speech - was very beautiful, Emi had to admit. She had long, luxuriant hair and a stunning figure - just the type that men drooled over. And yet Ranma seemed less than willing to throw over his responsibilities even for this extremely affectionate and gorgeous foreign belle. His... devotion was admirable, Emi had to concede grudgingly. She glanced aside at Akane.

But Akane's angry eyes seemed only to see her fiancé with another woman, not the valiant struggle he was putting up.

"Why Ranma not want date with Shampoo?"

"I told ya, I gotta teach class today at the dojo!"

Shampoo released Ranma and took a step back, looking confused. "What Ranma mean, teach class?"

_Cute, but not too bright,_ Emi thought.

"Martial arts class, at the Tendou Dojo," Kouryuu said, coming up alongside Emi. He bowed to Shampoo, and Emi was surprised to detect a hint of irony in the upward quirk of his mouth. "We meet again."

Shampoo glared at him. "What stupid man talking? Tendou Dojo never has classes. Old mans are too lazy."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Kouryuu replied. "Ranma-san and I lead classes there. I'm surprised you didn't notice the students about when you... stopped by the dojo before. Lessons were just ending then."

Looking to Ranma, Shampoo asked incredulously, "Really? Ranma really do teaching at the dojo now?"

_Hard to believe, isn't it?_

"Yeah, really," Ranma replied shortly. "So I can't go on a date now - not with you or nobody."

Akane flared, her fists clenching tightly, but she made no move and said nothing. Emi eyed her a moment; then she strode up to Ranma and delivered a resounding slap across his face.

Ranma stood stunned. Emi commended herself that she'd managed to mask the attack until the final instant. She'd traded power for stealth, but that hardly mattered.

Shampoo looked Emi up and down, menacingly. "Why you hit Ranma?"

Emi ignored her. "What about Akane?" she shouted at Ranma.

He glanced at Akane, then away, pushing his lower jaw out rebelliously. "Wh-what about her?"

Emi turned to Shampoo. "He can't go on a date with you - not because he's teaching classes this afternoon - because he has a fiancée!" Emi jabbed a finger at Akane, who took a step back, startled.

Shampoo's eyes glinted. "LIES." Without warning, she lunged at Emi. "Shampoo is only true fiancée!"

It was all Emi could do to avoid the sudden rain of attacks as Shampoo's fists pelted down on her. Panic started to rise in her as she realized she was outmatched - _She's good! Too good! I'm-_

Kouryuu appeared, rearing up behind Shampoo. With one sharp movement, too quick for Emi's eye to follow, he struck the enraged girl an angled blow to the base of the neck, and she crumpled into a heap.

Emi stood breathing heavily. "What did you...? Why did you...?"

Kouryuu looked down at the unconscious form of the girl. "She's a Chinese Amazon, a woman-warrior of Jouketsuzoku. Very dangerous. She might have injured you seriously if I hadn't intervened."

Akane just stared with wide eyes, and Ranma with eyes even wider.

"Oh, man... Kouryuu, do you have any idea what you've done?"

Kouryuu looked grim. "Yes. It was unavoidable." He looked around. "If no one else saw, we can pretend the incident-"

"SHAMPOO!" A young man with long dark hair landed abruptly in front of Emi, making her start.

"Mousse!" Akane cried, sounding almost as surprised as Emi felt.

The young man - Mousse, evidently - surveyed the scene. His handsome face contorted in rage as his gaze swept from the unconscious girl to Kouryuu. "What have you done to Shampoo!"

Kouryuu stood silent for a moment, as if considering how to answer the question. "What makes you think I did anything?"

The youth narrowed his eyes at Kouryuu, but the gesture looked more near-sighted than threatening. "Wait, who are you?" He pulled out a pair of thick, round glasses and put them on. "Do I know you?"

"We haven't officially met, no," Kouryuu returned.

Ranma stepped forward. "Look, Mousse, lemme explain-"

"So YOU did this!"

Chains suddenly shot forth from Mousse's sleeve, and Ranma barely had time to leap out of the way. With lighting speed, Kouryuu grabbed the chains as they tore past him, whipping them around to hurl the hapless young man against the nearby fence.

"Interfere with me, will you!" Mousse shouted as he extricated himself from the human-shaped cave he'd made in the chain-link. He charged Kouryuu, a pair of bladed fans appearing in his hands as if by magic. Mousse's first strike hissed through empty air as Kouryuu ducked and wove aside easily, spinning around the outside of the attack and disarming Mousse of the fan almost casually with one hand as he planted his other elbow in the side of Mousse's head.

As Mousse turned to slash at him with his remaining fan, Kouryuu snapped shut the fan he'd taken, catching the edge of Mousse's blow on the blunt end of it and twisting the attack back around to pin Mousse's weapon against his own throat.

Mousse grimaced, and lunged with his free hand. Emi started when she realized that a set of three-pronged battle-claws was now screaming straight for Kouryuu's head.

Without even flinching, Kouryuu moved the closed fan to intercept the claws, and, stepping aside, gave a flick of his wrist that sent the hapless young man tumbling on past him, head over heels. Mousse's battle claws clattered to the pavement and his bladed fan went spinning off and over the fence like a helicopter.

Kouryuu tucked his hands and the fan away in his sleeves and looked down at Mousse, who gazed back up at him with angry indignation that was quickly melting into surprised - and possibly even fearful - admiration.

"I'm afraid your hidden weapons technique won't work against me," Kouryuu informed him evenly. "Any weapon can cut both ways. If you rely on them, you favor a dangerous crutch."

Mousse was now staring at Kouryuu with wide eyes. He pointed a finger; "I know who you are! You're Jiaolong, the Arrogant Dragon!"

Emi looked to Kouryuu questioningly. "Arrogant dragon?"

"What're you babbling about, Mousse?" Ranma asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kouryuu sighed. "Jiaolong is how the monks pronounced my name in Mandarin. The... from the Amazons' point of view, unbelievable audacity of my attack against the Jouketsuzoku tribe prompted their scribes to write it as 'arrogant dragon' in their records."

Akane's jaw dropped. Ranma tried not to look impressed, but Emi could see it in his hard blink and the roundness of his eyes.

"You ATTACKED the Amazon village?" Akane blurted.

"He did!" Mousse confirmed. "It was about five years ago. I remember all the trials and councils and hearings. It went on for months!"

"You're blowing it out of proportion," Kouryuu demurred. "I... got into a fight with a group of Amazons out on patrol, and... I won."

Akane just shook her head dumbly, disbelieving.

Emi looked at Kouryuu again, puzzled. "Is that bad?"

"ALL kinds of bad," Ranma managed, looking severely nonplussed. "You have no idea."

Kouryuu looked away, clearly embarrassed by this bit of his past. "It was a foolish thing to do. By that time I'd proven myself better than the other novices, and... I suppose they wanted to take me down a notch. They... bet me that I couldn't defeat a whole party of Amazons single-handed. So... I picked a fight." Kouryuu paused. "It was my own fault for giving into the goading of my peers."

Mousse hopped to his feet, anger clear on his face. "You broke a thousand-year-old treaty on a DARE?"

Kouryuu's gaze met his briefly, then flicked away. "You could say that..."

Mousse seethed, apparently too angry to speak.

Emi felt lost. "What treaty?"

"The treaty between the monastery and the Jouketsuzoku," Kouryuu replied, obviously taking to the question as a relief from discussing his own youthful mistakes. "Amazon law states that a man who defeats an Amazon woman must marry her. Understandably, this law didn't sit well with a monastery full of celibate monks. If a monk ever got into a fight with an Amazon and won, it would cause all kinds of problems. So both groups had to officially agree never to fight each other."

Emi's eyes flicked to the still unconscious Amazon girl, who Mousse was just now lifting tenderly into his arms.

"So let me get this straight," Emi said. "You attacked a bunch of these so-called 'Amazons,' and in one stroke you violated an ancient local peace treaty and ended up with half a dozen brides-to-be?"

Kouryuu rubbed his head sheepishly. "Ten, actually. The rest were already married."

"Hmm," she huffed. _Playboy._ Maybe he had more in common with Ranma than she'd thought. _Just another vulgar male after all._

"TEN?" Ranma broke in, glancing from Akane to Shampoo. "How... how'd you get outta THAT?"

Kouryuu looked like he wished they'd drop the subject. "Well, to tell a long story in a few words, the Jouketsuzoku elders said that they'd drop all charges, and, er, betrothals, if the elders of the monastery would expel me from their order and banish me from the land. The monastery elders were, ah, less than pleased with me, so they were eager to agree."

Emi tilted her head, considering. "Well, you might be free of any weird traditional obligations from that dumb move, then. But what about HER?" Emi pointed emphatically. Mousse took a step back, turning halfway away as if to shield Shampoo from the indicating finger.

Kouryuu looked surprisingly grim. "You were in danger. I had to act quickly, without thought for the consequences should I-"

"What, you think I can't take care of myself?"

_Bite your tongue and swallow your pride, girl,_ some more reasonable part of her was admonishing her. _You were overmatched, and you know it._

"Not at all," he returned. "You're... eminently capable. But Chinese Amazons are fearsome, dangerous - they fight to kill."

"She hasn't killed anyone yet," Akane assured him, eyeing the limp Shampoo.

"She's sure TRIED," Ranma interjected.

"I don't think she would have seriously hurt Emi," Akane finished, though the admission sounded begrudging at best, hardly a defense plea.

"Well... perhaps spending some time in civilized society has... socialized her a bit," Kouryuu said.

"Not much, it hasn't," Emi opined, remembering the way she had shameless glommed onto Ranma, followed by the vicious assault on Emi herself. As far as Emi was concerned the girl was still a barbaric hussy. And a bimbo to boot.

"I'll say," Ranma agreed with Emi, his gaze distant, as if mentally replaying the violent flying tackle she must have made from the back of her speeding bike.

Wait, Ranma agreed with her? Emi was shocked. She couldn't remember him EVER conceding to her obvious good judgment.

Mousse was frowning. "Stop talking about Shampoo like that. She can't even defend herself."

Emi sighed. He had a point. "Look, Mush, whatever your name is. Why don't you take her home, or wherever. Just tell her she fell - or tell her you didn't see what happened."

"I DIDN'T see what happened," Mousse confessed, as if lamenting a mortal failing.

"Good," Emi replied. "Then nothing happened."

She turned and went to retrieve her bike. When she glanced back over her shoulder, everyone was still staring at her - except for Mousse, who was gazing down at Shampoo in his arms, a pained and helpless look on his face.

"Well?" Emi said. "Are you guys gonna stand there all day? We'll be late."

With that, the clustered group seemed to come unfrozen, and Mousse leapt away onto a nearby roof as the rest moved to follow her. Emi realized that only just a week before, Mousse's spectacular bound might have surprised her. After what she'd witnessed since, and even today alone, she could hardly bring herself to be fazed by it.

* * *

Ukyou was straightening up a few odds and ends in her restaurant, in preparation for heading over to the Tendou Dojo, when a swishing of curtain fabric heralded an unexpected arrival. She looked up, and the carefully prepared apologetic smile and "sorry we're closed" speech transformed immediately into a silent glare.

"Hiya," Preston greeted her warmly.

"What do you want?"

He grinned. "Oh, I want many things. But not TOO many, I'd like to think. I'm not greedy."

"Can't you read the sign?" Ukyou asked, frustrated as usual with the foreigner's apparently willful obtuseness.

"Of course. It says you're closed until dinner. Got time for one more customer?"

Ukyou made a show of shelving more ingredients. "Not if the customer is you."

Preston shrugged this off. "Fair enough." True to past form, he failed to take a hint, and just stood watching her as she closed up the cafe, his hands tucked casually in his pockets.

Slamming a drawer shut, Ukyou rounded on him. "Why are you HERE?"

Preston raised his eyebrows. "I'm glad you asked. Matter of fact I had a great idea I thought you might like."

"Does it involve you jumping in the ocean with a brick tied around your face?" Ukyou asked.

Preston's grin returned. "Not quite."

"Not interested," she said.

"Well, I was thinking," Preston continued blithely, "why don't you start serving alcohol here?"

This brought Ukyou up short. "What?"

"You could get a liquor license," he suggested. "Wait, do they even have those here?" He shook his head. "Nevermind, whatever. The point is, I've heard most restaurants make their real profits on alcohol sales - least in other countries that's true, can't see why it wouldn't be the same in Japan."

"Oh, I see!" Ukyou crossed her arms. "Let me put it this way: as a minor, I don't think I could get away with serving alcohol here, and I sure as hell wouldn't serve YOU any. So if this is some cheap trick to try and get booze, it's not only stupid, it won't work."

"Nah," Preston waved a hand. "I don't drink. That stuff'll kill ya! As for you being a minor, it sure hasn't stopped you from running your own okonomiyaki-ya. I doubt anyone will raise a fuss," his grin flashed again, "long as you keep them well lubricated, so to speak."

Ukyou considered his words. "You don't drink? Then what do you get out of this scheme of yours?"

"Nothing," Preston replied. "Well, that's a lie. I get the satisfaction of seeing you pull in a hefty profit."

Ukyou lowered her brows incredulously. "Uh-huh. And who exactly is gonna deal with all the rowdy drunks while I'm busy cooking? Especially the ones who want to stay late and keep drinking. I'm not open all night, you know."

"That's easy," Preston responded. "You get a bouncer. Someone to mostly just stand around and look tough, ask people to settle down or leave if necessary - he probably wouldn't actually have to 'bounce' too many customers, but it'd be best if you got someone who looked the part AND had the ability to back it up."

_Ah._ Now she saw where this was going. "I suppose you're going to recommend someone for the job?"

"Actually, yes," he said. "I was going to recommend Piku."

Nowhere near the response she had been anticipating, Ukyou's thoughts skid to a halt, and had to do a full about-face.

"You... you know Hasegawa-san?" she asked when she'd recovered from the momentary mental whiplash.

"Course I do," Preston grinned. "Me an' Piku, we're like this." He held up his hand, his fingers crossed. Ukyou thought the gesture looked kind of vulgar, but she understood his meaning.

_Of course,_ she realized. Preston and Hasegawa both practiced kendo at the Dojo. Of course they would know each other. Whether they were as close as Preston indicated was another question. In her own limited interactions with him, Hasegawa hadn't struck her as the sort to put up with Preston. Hasegawa seemed to value a measure of propriety that Preston most notably lacked.

But that was just one of the qualities that recommended him to the role of an enforcer. Piku - Hasegawa, she corrected herself mentally - had a certain noble bearing about him. He carried himself like a real swordsman, a real fighter. He wasn't nearly as imposing a figure as Kouryuu - who, Ukyou realized, would have made an ideal bouncer, except that he smiled too much - but Hasegawa certainly did have a bit of personal intensity to him that couldn't hurt in such a position.

_Damn,_ Ukyou thought. _He's got me considering his proposition seriously._ She was still trying to figure out how this was going to benefit Preston. Maybe he thought it would give him more of an excuse to come hang around her shop and be obnoxious, as he seemed eminently inclined to do.

Well, if he did, maybe she could get her new "bouncer" to kick him out. Ukyou brightened. There was a thought.

"What does Pi- er, Hasegawa-san think about all this?" she asked.

"He likes the idea a lot," Preston answered. "He can start whenever you need him to."

"If he likes it so much, why didn't he come pitch the plan himself?" Certainly it would have gone over better.

Preston shrugged. "It was my idea. 'Sides, now was a convenient time for me to drop by, so I figured I'd go ahead and put it on the table and see what you thought of it."

For a long moment, Ukyou didn't say anything. It was hard to admit that she liked his plan.

"All right," she said finally, trying to make it sound grudging rather than eager.

Preston held out his hand. "Shall we shake on it?"

Ukyou eyed the appendage warily. Preston just gave her an open smile. If she hadn't known him, she might have even said the smile was sincere - charming, even.

"Believe me when I say I am thoroughly authorized to shake on Piku's behalf," he told her. "You can work out the details of his... employ later on.

Tentatively, Ukyou reached out to take the proffered hand. "You're not going to be taking a cut of his pay or anything, are you?"

Preston's smile split into a full grin as he gripped her hand firmly. "I promise you, Ukyou-san," he said. "I will never see a single yen from this."

Despite the rising feeling in her chest from the anticipation of finally bringing in enough money to sustain her business - plus the added opportunity to get to work with Hasegawa, and maybe get to know him a little better, since he actually seemed like a decent, interesting guy (but not interesting like THAT of course) - Ukyou couldn't help but notice the sinking feeling of worry in her stomach that threatened to drag her elation down.

Preston just kept grinning, and it didn't help.

* * *

"Knave! Outlander wretch! You have no respect for propriety in the forms of the Art!"

"And you've got a bokken up yer ass!"

Nabiki heard the argument well before she saw it. She sighed as she rounded the corner of the main training hall and the two bickering kendoists came into view. Kunou was standing in front of the kendo hall, blocking Preston's path.

The foreigner stood a few paces away, feet set apart in a stance of readiness, holding an electric guitar of uniform unpainted silver- gray metal gripped in one hand as if he was ready to use it like a weapon. His teeth were barred in an expression that was definitely not a smile. Nabiki had never seen him truly angry before, and the sight was a bit disconcerting.

"I was gonna play something inspirational," he fairly shouted. "But you went and chucked my hi-fi in the dirt, you dumb-shit!"

Preston pointed to where a pair of speakers and an amp lay carelessly strewn on the still newly turned earth between the two training halls. A long black extension cord snaked across the grass from the equipment to the new house bordering the Tendou residence.

"Your cacophonous canting is not fit material for meditation!"

"What d'you mean, not fit? 'Voodoo Child' clearly expresses the proper -!"

"It's crass Western drivel!"

"WHAT! Look, shitbag, you can insult me, you can insult my family, my heritage, anything - but don't you EVER insult Hendrix!"

The kendo students had started to gather around, but there was a clear split between them. A cluster of clean-cut rank-and-file kendoists formed up behind Kunou, while the bleached-haired punks and surly-looking types stood at Preston's back with more attitude and less discipline - but no less loyalty and determination, Nabiki noted.

She had been hoping to put off the resolution of this particular inconvenient rivalry, but it looked like things had become too divisive to continue without a drastic change, or at least some kind of immediate action. She would have to diffuse the situation before things got ugly.

"Gentlemen!" she raised her voice as she stepped briskly to intervene. "Arguing will get us nowhere. I'm sure there's a more civilized way we can settle this dispute."

"Civilized!" Kunou spat. He jabbed a finger at Preston. "This cur has defiled the sanctity of the kendo hall!"

"Oh, yeah?" Preston shot back. "Well I don't like your face!"

Kunou drew his bokken in a flash; startled, Nabiki stopped in her tracks.

"You DARE impugn the majesty of my visage!" Kunou bellowed.

"You heard me, weasel-face. What're you gonna do, poke me with your tiny stick? Oh, I'm so scared!"

"What's going on?" a whisper came at Nabiki's shoulder, nearly making her jump. She turned a frown on Ukyou.

"What does it look like?" she quipped back in annoyance. Nabiki realized that other curious observers were congregating. _Better get a lid on this fast,_ she told herself.

His eyes afire, Kunou pointed his bokken to the front gate. "Leave now if you value your wretched existence. You defile the hallowed ground of this property with your very presence!"

A surprising show of restraint from Kunou. Maybe there was time left to stop any serious damage to the dojo.

But Nabiki didn't even have a chance to open her mouth before Preston growled, "Listen, you egomaniac! I paid for half of it, so it's my damn property too!" He shifted his grip on the guitar dangerously.

"We shall see about that!" With a deliberate move of his bokken, Kunou drew a line in the dirt. "This line denotes the boundary between my demesne and yours. Cross it at your own peril!"

Smirking, Preston stepped one foot over the mark.

Kunou's eyes narrowed dangerously. "It would behoove you to take your foot back to your own side of the property line."

A bolt of energy seemed to pass along their locked gazes as Preston's eyes narrowed in response. "Make me."

"That I shall!"

_Aw, crap,_ Nabiki thought as Kunou charged Preston with a primal yell. Well, as long as they kept the fight off Tendou property she decided she wouldn't get too worked up. If she didn't have to pay for it, it wasn't her problem.

Kunou lunged forward in a characteristic fashion. Preston easily side-stepped the attack and spun out of the way, swinging the guitar around in a lateral arc like an axe, bearing down on the back of Kunou's skull as he blew past - but Kunou wasn't there. Ducking into a tumble, Kunou rolled out of harms way. Preston's attack went wide, the metal edge of the guitar whizzing by over Kunou's head to collide with a nearby stone lantern that smashed to bits on impact.

"Whoa!" Ukyou blurted. "That's no ordinary guitar!"

True, Nabiki noted. Not even a snapped string; the thing must have been custom built with the strength of a suspension bridge. But Nabiki was more impressed by the ease and agility with which Kunou had avoided Preston's counter-attack. Had training at the dojo really refocused his under-used skills that much? His confidence seemed more solid than the usual display of bravado.

Rolling to his feet, Kunou met Preston's gaze. "Don't play games with me. Get yourself a real weapon and face me like a man."

Preston sneered, and spun the guitar around in his grip, exposing its other edge - probably only for show, since the guitar was symmetrical. "I've got all the weapons I need, thanks."

"Then know you," Kunou proclaimed, leveling his bokken to point menacingly at Preston, "that you face none other than the undefeated champion of high school kendo..."

Someone snorted, and Nabiki looked over to see that Ranma - and just about everyone else - had taken up position nearby to watch the scene unfolding.

Akane elbowed Ranma in the ribs lightly, and even at this distance Nabiki could hear her stage whisper, "He means undefeated in the high school kendo tournaments, dummy. The NORMAL ones."

"... the esteemed High Master and sensei of the Kunou Tatewaki Kendo Hall at the Tendou Dojo..." Kunou continued.

Preston rolled his eyes and moved over to his offended hi-fi equipment, inspecting it for damage and adjusting a few knobs.

"... the finest swordsman in all of Tokyo, nay, in all Japan, NAY, in all the WORLD..."

"Isn't he overdoing it a bit?" Ukyou commented. She glanced over at Ranma, looking like she was tempted to work her way through the crowd so she could stand by him, but clearly too engrossed with the combatants to put the plan into action.

"This is nothing," Nabiki smirked in reply. "He's toned down the melodrama quite a bit. He's managing to look ALMOST respectable while spouting that garbage."

"... the notorious BLUE THUNDER of Furinkan High School..."

"He talks too much," Ukyou remarked in an undervoice, chewing her lip. "Preston's got him beat, no contest."

"Don't be so sure," Nabiki cautioned. "Kunou's different today. He's taking this fight really seriously."

There was an... intensity about him that marked this fight as different from others. He had fallen into the routine of losing to Ranma and blaming it on trickery. But Preston was not Ranma. And Kunou clearly didn't consider this just another kendo match either.

For his own part, Preston looked perfectly content to fiddle with his sound equipment and ignore Kunou's speech, nonchalant and unconcerned as usual. He found the amp cord, dusted it off, and plugged it into the guitar.

"Kunou Tatewaki, age-!"

Preston blasted out a chord that split the air, cutting off Kunou's words and wiping out all other sounds on the dojo grounds. Slowly, the noise died away into silence.

"I know who you are, dipshit." Preston glared across at Kunou. "Well, I'm Preston. And I'm-a kick your ugly ass back to the feudal age." With a twang of feedback he tore the cord from the guitar and charged his opponent.

Up and down the length of the property line they battled, stepping over the discarded bokkens and bamboo swords of their students who had scrambled to get out of the way. Weapons blurred as strike after strike failed to meet its mark, each combatant dodging and countering with equal skill and grace. The crack of hard wood against metal filled the air, the harsh music of elaborate parries and ripostes. Nabiki's heart raced, and she suddenly realized she hadn't even been paying attention to whether they were on Tendou property or not, that she'd been caught up in the tension of the fight just as much as Kunou and Preston, just as much as everyone else looking on with bated breath.

And the mob of observers seemed to gasp as one as Preston suddenly disappeared from view with a grin, descending right through the ground and out of sight. Kunou, his face a stony mask, leapt after him undeterred, and Nabiki realized that Preston had dropped down into the open construction pit where the pipes bringing water to the new house were still being hooked up.

The onlookers all rushed forward en masse, no one wanting to miss and instant of the duel. Before anyone could reach the construction pit, a giant plume of water erupted from it, shooting skyward. Nabiki flung her arms over her head, trying vainly to shield herself against the sudden downpour of cold water that rained from the sky. She ran to the edge of the pit; Ukyou, Kouryuu, Akane, and Ranma, now female, were right alongside her.

The first thing Nabiki glimpsed was Kunou's back, coming straight for her as he leapt up from the floor of the pit, keeping his eyes trained ahead. She barely had time to step out of his way before he landed on the ledge just inches away from her. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, water dripping off his damp hair to fall past his hawk- intense eyes.

"I nearly had the fool, but like a low coward he ducked behind the water main at the last instant." Kunou's gaze flicked back ahead of him, scanning the construction pit for his adversary. The pit was already slowly filling with water.

Nabiki made out the indistinct shape of a man just behind the column of water shooting steadily up into the air. The shape moved, seeming to leap toward them - and shot up the spire of water, vaulted into the air by the pressure under his feet, somersaulting in a high arc to land deftly nearby.

Everybody stared. The person crouched menacingly on the wet turf was dressed in a kendo gi as Preston had been. He had a strip of red cloth tied around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes, just as Preston usually did. But this person was not Preston. He reached up and pulled the headband back, cinching his hair into a neat pony-tail. Then he reached down and a picked up a stray bokken, standing and knocking the dirt from it with an almost casual flick of his wrist. Even that simple motion looked deadly.

There could be no doubt left in Nabiki's mind. She was gazing at none other than Hasegawa Piku.

"No. Fucking. Way." This from a wide-eyed Ranma. Ukyou and Akane looked dumbfounded. Kouryuu just looked unusually sober, though he glanced at Ranma without recognition, apparently wondering who this unfamiliar female was.

"This is bad news for you, Kunou-san," Kouryuu said in an undervoice.

"Why?" Nabiki interjected, overriding any response Kunou might have given. What the hell was going on here?

"Because, Tendou Nabiki-san," Kouryuu replied grimly, "Piku is a much better kendoist than Preston."

Piku rolled his shoulders, as if stretching - flying through the air and falling ten or fifteen meters to the ground didn't seem to have fazed him in the slightest. "Enough children's games, Kunou. Let's end this now."

Nabiki started backing slowly away from Kunou, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and Piku. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, retreating to what seemed like a safer distance. Kunou strode forward, but seemed hesitant, confused. Nabiki could hardly blame him. Her mind was still trying to wrap itself around the whole situation.

"I have no quarrel with you, Hasegawa," Kunou said, his voice projecting across the drenched crowd for all to hear. "My fight is with that insolent dog of a foreigner, not you."

Piku held his bokken forward. "I am your opponent." And he rushed at Kunou with blinding speed. Kunou was barely able to fend off the whirlwind of attacks Piku sent at him - one, two, six, ten - too many for Nabiki to even begin to count.

But then as suddenly as he had begun, Piku paused. He seemed to be listening. Nabiki realized that the roaring gush of water was beginning to subside; the unnatural rain lessened, then finally stopped all together.

Everyone, crowd and combatants alike, all stood in confused silence for a moment.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" Nabiki's attention - along with everyone else's - was wrenched in the direction of the voice. A very perturbed-looking Emi stood with her hands clenched on a wheel protruding from an exposed portion of the water main. She stood up on the huge pipe, her position at the top of a large bend raising her out of the pit into full view. "Just stand there gawping, why don't you! Was I the only one who thought somebody should shut the water off before we drain Tokyo dry?"

A few sheepish glances were exchanged throughout the crowd of observers. Nabiki wondered if Emi would feel quite so high'n'mighty if she knew that her blue sports bra was showing through her soaked gi and undershirt.

"Give it a rest!" Ranma yelled, breaking the silence. "Just 'cause you're a high school teacher doesn't mean you c'n treat everyone like a bunch o' kids!"

A hushed murmur of agreement arose, and someone shouted gleefully, "Hey, it's the redhead!"

Emi glared at Ranma, but also looked puzzled, clearly not recognizing her female form any more than Kouryuu had.

_Surprising that Ranma's kept that secret hidden from either of them for this long,_ Nabiki thought. She glanced toward Piku. Speaking of secrets...

Nabiki raised her hands and her voice, calling for attention. "Everyone! I want to thank you all for coming today, but I think that due to this unfortunate accident, classes will have to be put on hiatus for the remainder of the day."

The disappointment was audible and almost unanimous - which was encouraging, to a certain extent, since it meant people really wanted to be here.

"I'm very sorry," Nabiki said, trying to look sympathetic, though she was having trouble not grimacing and grinding her teeth at what she knew she had to say next. She took a breath and continued, putting a reassuring smile on her face, "You will all be reimbursed for the cost of today's lessons."

This seemed to assuage the disgruntled feelings of at least some of the students, and they began slowly filing past Nabiki, heading for the main gates.

"C'mon, Saro," someone said sullenly.

"What? We can't leave now! The REDHEAD, man, the REDHEAD!"

"Shut UP, Saro!" was followed by the sound of knuckles wrapping someone's skull.

Kouryuu was gazing at Ranma in renewed puzzlement. Then a spark of understanding seemed to enter his eyes. "Ranma?"

"Uh..." Ranma was blushing slightly in spite of herself. Nabiki guessed that Kouryuu, a respected male friend and colleague in the martial arts, was probably the last person Ranma wanted to know about the curse.

"You've been to Jusenkyou?" Kouryuu asked in amazement.

Ranma looked as taken aback as Nabiki felt. "Yeah, but how did you-?"

She broke off as Emi approached, her gi muddied in several places from scrabbling about in the construction pit, and parts of her bra still showing through the wet material.

"Classes have been canceled for the day, Sakai-san," Nabiki informed her.

"Good," Emi replied with an approving nod. "Maybe we can get something done about cleaning this up." Either she hadn't caught the broad hint in Nabiki's statement, or she was choosing to ignore it. Emi looked around. "Where's Preston? He's at least partially responsible for this mess."

Nabiki noticed Kouryuu's gaze fall on Piku.

"I think a fair bit of explaining is in order," he said.

"So it seems," Piku agreed, looking resigned.

* * *

Emi, feeling much better now that she'd changed into dry, clean clothes, sat on the dojo floor with Akane on her right, Kouryuu on her left, and Nabiki, Ukyou, Kunou, Preston, and the unfamiliar redheaded girl filling out the circle. She didn't know where Piku had gone, and Ranma was still mysteriously absent, but since she wasn't exactly fond of either of them she didn't bother to ask after them.

"So," Kouryuu began. "Where to start..."

"I'll start," Preston volunteered. He'd gotten a hold of a bag of snacks and sat popping them into his mouth and munching loudly, but it didn't seem to interfere with his usual gregariousness in the slightest.

"I was born in Hong Kong," he said. A small "ah!" escaped from the direction of Nabiki; he gave her brief "I told you so" glance, then went back to his story. "My father was a wealthy British businessman at the time, though he eventually went into politics. My mother died when I was very young. I don't really remember her. I was raised mostly by my Japanese step-mother." He set aside his snack-bag as he went on, pitching his voice so that it wasn't loud, but they could hear every word quite clearly, and there was something about the way he spoke that captured Emi's attention immediately. She could tell he was no mean raconteur.

"When I was about three years old, we all went on a trip through provincial China. I don't really remember much about the trip, but at one point, when we were touring the Qinghai province a long way from civilization, I wandered away from my parents. I think I wanted to find a dragon's den or something. What I found... was Jusenkyou."

Someone swallowed loud enough for Emi to hear.

"You fell in?" Akane blurted.

Preston nodded. "I remember that much. I don't remember anything that happened right after falling in, though. I guess Kouryuu happened to be nearby and he fished me out."

Preston looked to Kouryuu, who took up the thread.

"I was... about eleven," Kouryuu said thoughtfully. "The order of monks who raised me USED to be the guardians of Jusenkyou, an order founded to keep people from wandering into the cursed springs. I thought this was a lot nobler than their modern reclusive lifestyle, so I wanted to uphold the old ways, I think." He shook his head, as if trying to get his mind back on track. "That's all unimportant. I was nearby, and I was all in a panic when I heard splashing from one of the springs. But when I pulled Preston out, he looked like a normal healthy boy to me. Unfortunately, that... wasn't exactly the case." He looked to Preston, waiting for him to continue.

Preston dipped his head in thanks and went on. "We learned the nature of the spring I'd fallen into soon enough." Preston held up his snack bag as if it were a signboard, and his normally flawless Japanese broke into an accented pidgin. "Oh, no, sir, you fall in Spring of Drowned Samurai. Very tragic story of exiled samurai from Japan who drown in spring five-hundred year ago."

Others around the circle smirked or chuckled in spite of themselves, but the humor was lost on Emi.

"So," Nabiki leaned forward, gazing at Preston with interest. "You're Piku."

"He CAN'T be," Ukyou breathed.

"You are, aren't you?" Nabiki said eagerly.

Preston smiled. "No, I'm most definitely Preston."

Nabiki frowned, as did most everyone else except for Kouryuu.

"It's... a bit complicated," Kouryuu said.

Emi was thoroughly confused. "What are you all talking about? What's all this about cursed springs? Where IS Piku?"

Preston grinned and popped another crispy rice snack into his mouth. "Takin' a nap."

"Waitaminute here," the redhead broke in. "You fell in... what, the Spring of Drowned Nut-job, you said?"

"Samurai," Kouryuu corrected, while Preston just looked amused.

"So when you get splashed with cold water... like you did earlier today..." the redhead continued, "you turn into Piku."

"Correct," Preston responded still grinning. "Give the girl a prize! Kouryuu, tell her what she's won."

Kouryuu pursed his lips, obviously refusing to play along, while the redhead just grimaced.

"Don't call me 'girl,'" she said.

_What kind of crazy nonsense IS this?_ Emi thought. People talking about turning into other people... Had she landed in an episode of some bad anime or something?

Kunou, who had yet to say anything, finally spoke up, addressing Preston. "So. You say that you fell into an accursed spring, and that now your body and soul have become intertwined with that of a dishonored cur of a ronin... much in the manner that the pig-tailed girl has become bound to the vile Saotome."

Everyone except Kouryuu and Preston gawked at Kunou. Emi looked around at the shocked faces. Certainly, what Kunou had said was totally crazy - but that didn't seem to be why they were so surprised.

"You KNOW about Ranma-kun's curse?" Nabiki asked after a moment of dumbfounded silence.

Kunou nodded sagely. "Yes, I know of Saotome's curse. It is a most foul curse indeed, one that no mortal deserves upon them."

Everyone just continued to stare at Kunou in shocked wonderment.

"Only recently has it become clear to me why the pig-tailed cannot escape him, bound to him as she is by his vile magicks!"

The looks of awe fell away into blandness bordering on disgust.

"Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze, Kunou-chan," Nabiki remarked, resting the side of her face in her open hand.

"My heart goes out to her all the more now that I know the full truth of the matter," Kunou went on. "Damn that Saotome for all his black sorcery!"

The redhead waved. "Uh, hello, Kunou, I'm right here. I can hear you, you know."

Kunou turned his gaze on her. "Yes, my pig-tailed goddess, I know you desire my attention and affections at all hours of the day, but now is not an opportune time. I promise to lavish my full attention upon you later."

The redhead's face seemed to be trying to match her hair-color. Emi realized it wasn't embarrassment, but red-hot fury.

Nabiki grinned broadly at the girl. "'Daddy's busy now.'"

The redhead looked like steam would shoot out of her ears at any second. _Make that white-hot fury,_ Emi thought.

Kunou turned a patronizing eye on Nabiki. "Thank you Tendou Nabiki, but I'm sure she understands my meaning quite clearly without your inelegant and ineloquent interpretations."

Growling murderously, the redhead stood and stormed out of the dojo, muttering something about the hot water being ready. Emi thought it looked more like the hot water had boiled over.

Ukyou turned back from watching with a look of sympathy as the redhead strode towards the Tendou house. "I don't believe it," she said in a clear attempt to steer back to the topic at hand. "Preston CANNOT be Piku. Preston is an obnoxious jerk." Preston winced at this, but Ukyou took no notice. "Piku... Piku is nice - CUTE even!"

Emi disagreed, but held her tongue. Even if Ukyou's reasoning was faulty, at least she was arguing on the side of sanity, whereas everyone else seemed ready to believe that two young martial artists of completely different ethnicities and nationalities, not to mention somewhat different temperaments, were somehow the same person.

Ranma stalked in and sat without saying a word, looking about as angry as the redhead who had just left. Kunou eyed him menacingly, but said nothing. As it was Ranma, Emi was content to ignore his arrival, much as everyone else seemed to be doing.

"Why THANK you, Ukyou," Preston was saying. He managed a quite effective bow from a sitting position. "Piku will be flattered that you think he's cute and nice. And I'm sure that Piku thinks you're very cute and nice too." He grinned, with a hint of irony. "We're pretty much of one mind on that."

Ukyou jumped to her feet. "I am NOT nice!"

"Kuonji-san, please sit down," Kouryuu remonstrated. "Or else leave. There is more yet to tell."

Grudgingly, Ukyou sat, her face still red and her eyes still sending the occasional scorching glance in Preston's direction, which he seemed to weather without so much as a dent in his good humor.

But Preston's smile faded as his gaze went distant, his thoughts clearly turning inward once again, and his mind's eye did not seem to relish what he saw there.

"My mother... my step-mother, that is, was never quite... I mean, she was..." he trailed off. He swallowed hard, not meeting anyone's eyes. Finally he looked at Kouryuu. "I think you can tell this better, it's... too much." He paused. "Too much a part of me."

Kouryuu nodded solemnly, and took a deep breath. "Preston's step- mother was... an odd woman. She handled his curse... well, strangely. It seems she insisted on calling him by a different name and treating him like a different person depending on which form he was in. When he was in the form you see him in now, she called him by his given name, Preston. When he was in his other form, she called him Piku - the gods know why, as I said, she was strange woman."

"Was?" Akane broke in.

"Is," Preston corrected. He sent a strange, sharp glance at Kouryuu. "She's not dead yet."

"My apologies," Kouryuu said. "I meant that she WAS a strange woman. Now she is..." he trailed off.

"Unhinged," Preston supplied. "She's in a special facility now where they take care of... people like her. Anyway, what Kouryuu's saying is she made me what I am. Or at any rate, that's the theory."

"So you're saying Preston's mom gave him some kinda... complex or somthin'?" Ranma asked.

Kouryuu hesitated to answer.

Preston shrugged. "Like I said, that's just the theory. I am what I am, for better or worse. And so's Piku."

Kouryuu folded his hands in front of him, seeming to make up his mind about what he was going to say. "I'm sure you've all noticed how people with Jusenkyou curses seem to attract cold water almost like a magnet."

There was nodding all around, some general murmurs of agreement, and Ranma smiled sardonically.

"No," Emi interjected, probably louder than necessary. She was getting tired of all this lunacy about curses.

Kouryuu smiled apologetically. "I should have explained the details for you sooner, but everyone else seemed so impatient. Anyone who falls in one of the cursed springs at Jusenkyou takes the form of the creature that drowned there - in Preston's case it was a young samurai who drowned. A cursed individual can return to normal if doused with hot water, but cold water will always turn them back into their cursed form. Part of the curse seems to also involve attracting cold water to the cursed person as well." He returned his gaze to address the whole party.

_He just said all of that with a completely straight face,_ Emi thought, her mind reeling. Kouryuu, possibly one of the most honest and straightforward people who she had ever met, had just given voice to the most ludicrous stream of insanity she had ever heard outside daytime television or the pages of a bad manga.

"I have noticed," Kouryuu continued, "that Preston seems to have less of a problem with getting randomly splashed, compared to other cursed people I've encountered. In fact, he hardly has more of a problem with it than the average non-cursed person. I think it's because he grew up with both halves of his self developing almost equally. He was cursed at such an early age that the curse is very much a part of him. He's not so much a man cursed as one... divided."

"Don't give me that crap," Preston interrupted. "I'm a whole person. Both of me - us." He paused thoughtfully. "I think."

Emi stared around at everyone in the circle. All expressions were serious, pensive even. Nowhere could she detect any signs of incredulity.

_They believe him,_ she thought. _They all believe him._

"I..." she stammered. "I can't... I don't..."

Kouryuu's eyes seemed sympathetic as he watched her. "I know it's all a bit hard to comprehend, for people who didn't grow up around this sort of thing."

Emi just shook her head dumbly. A little voice inside her kept repeating, _wake up, Emi, wake up,_ over and over again.

Kouryuu sighed. "A demonstration may be in order." He rose with a muffled, "Please excuse me."

An instant later, he returned, carrying a metal bucket that sloshed noisily. He walked up behind Ranma, who was sitting with his back to the entrance, looking rather bored. Then Kouryuu upended the bucket over Ranma's head, and a feminine scream of surprise broke the silence in the training hall.

"Waaah! Why'd you use ME to demonstrate? Weren't we discussin' PRESTON's curse here?"

Where Ranma had been sitting not three paces away from Emi, a sopping wet redhead - the same unfamiliar girl as before - now sat fuming on the dojo floor.

"Well, now you know, Teach," the girl shot across at Emi. Then she glared up at Kouryuu standing over her. "Satisfied?"

Emi, feeling suddenly dizzy and light-headed, reached out blindly and gripped Akane's sleeve, her eyes fixed on the small, pig-tailed girl in the oversized Chinese shirt. Ranma's shirt.

"Akane," she murmured hoarsely. "I don't think you mentioned this particular complication with your engagement."

* * *

Nabiki's spirits were lifted to discover that the next morning's gossip at Furinkan High School revolved entirely around the incident of the burst water main at the Tendou Dojo, and didn't so much as skirt any apocryphal rumors about her romantic life. She even hummed contentedly to herself as she made her way to her locker.

Her humming stopped abruptly as she pulled open her locker to reveal a flimsy white square propped against the heels of her school slippers. Glancing about to make sure no one was paying attention, she picked up the photograph, flipping it around to see the front, then quickly reading the note scrawled on the back: "Meet me on the roof."

Tucking the photo away in her blouse, Nabiki made her way calmly but rapidly up the stairs to the top of the building.

It was surprisingly warm out for the time of year. The sun shown brightly, and only the cool breeze and the barest bite of dryness in the air hinted that winter was only a few months away.

Preston greeted her on the empty rooftop with a smile that was somehow lacking in its usual humor.

"What's this all about, Preston-kun?" Nabiki demanded, not wanting to mince words.

"I'd thought that picture I gave you would be worth a thousand words," he replied, still smiling.

She could almost feel the heat of scandal emanating from the photograph where it rested just over her heart, one corner tucked into the top of her bra. Nabiki glanced down at the schoolyard, and walked to the railing. She gazed down at the tree that she and Kunou had sat beneath just the day before. This was the spot - the exact height and distance from where the well-timed snapshot had been taken.

Nabiki gripped the rail tightly. She knew all too well that what was not shown was as valuable as what was shown. From what little the photo revealed, she and the brainless wonder might as well have been sharing a picnic like lovers instead of plotting like accomplices. Following on the heels of the photo of her and Preston, there was only one way that anyone at Furinkan could interpret it.

_It's not a big deal,_ she told herself. _The picture means nothing. I can weather this._

"Why are you doing this?" Nabiki asked aloud. "This is Japan. You can't do this sort of thing here."

"Why not? You do, from all I've heard."

Hidden from view by the rail, Nabiki's fingernails clawed at the cool metal.

"Why me? I don't deserve this."

Preston came to lean against the railing, his eyes narrowed. "Don't give me that innocent damsel routine, Nabiki. You're pure evil. I can see it in your beady little eyes," he said, pointing two fingers at her face.

"Hey, you take that back!" Nabiki protested. "My eyes are NOT beady! OR little!"

Preston raised a hand, palm upward. "Point conceded. But, nevertheless..."

Nabiki took a deep breath. "What do you want?" she asked plainly.

Preston almost looked disappointed. "What's this, Nabiki? Giving in so soon?"

That this idiot should try to play her at her own game... Nabiki clenched her teeth. "Spit. It. Out."

Preston nodded. "Alright. I want your help."

Nabiki managed to keep her voice even by not meeting Preston's gaze. "With what?"

"I want you to help Ranma and Akane."

Nabiki's head snapped up. "What?"

Preston broke into a grin again. "Weren't expecting that, were you?"

"What do you want me to help them with?" Nabiki asked, playing for time as her mind raced ahead.

"You know what I mean," Preston stated.

Of course she did. "What makes you think I can help?"

"You'll find a way. You're resourceful. And I'll let you know if I come up with anything more... specific. On a need-to-know basis, of course."

Nabiki studied him. "And what happens if I don't agree?"

"I know all about your engagement to Kunou," Preston replied, his smile fading to seriousness.

Nabiki's blood nearly froze in her veins.

"I could blow this whole thing wide open, with or without that photo," he said, pointing to her chest.

Nabiki looked down. To the wary observer, the faintest outline of the picture could be made out through her white blouse. She took a step back, placing a hand over the photo instinctively like someone clutching a wound or covering up an embarrassing hole in their clothes. She could feel her heart thumping just beneath it.

Making an effort to compose herself, Nabiki started counting heartbeats. What did Preston have to gain by bringing Akane and Ranma together?

Soon, she found her voice again, though her words still came out clipped and full of indignation.

"What do you get out of all this? Ukyou?"

"Maybe," Preston said, his face unreadable. "If I'm really lucky. But that's completely up to Ukyou, now isn't it?"

Nabiki didn't respond, just focused on regulating her breathing. She refused to show weakness in front of him.

"I do this for the sake of pure altruism," Preston said. "Not that that's something you'd understand."

"There's no such thing as altruism," Nabiki replied. "Everyone has an ulterior motive. Even freaks like you."

Preston seemed to consider this for a moment. "Maybe you're right. The truth is I really can't stand negative emotions. They have a tendency to snowball out of control. Luckily, so do positive emotions. So I guess my ulterior motive is that I want everyone to be happy. I hate being around angry people. And I think this will be a way to multiply everyone's happiness."

"Everyone's?" Nabiki shot back. "What about MY happiness? You think this is going to make ME happy, asshole?"

Preston grinned. "Oh, yes. I know how much you love scheming and manipulating events. That's why I'm leaving the method and execution entirely in your hands, Nabiki. You'll have quite a lot of fun helping your little sister and her fiancé along the road to Love City. And for once, you'll actually be doing some good, too."

Nabiki sighed and released the railing, which she'd been squeezing hard enough to hurt her fingers.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she would enjoy the task, even though it stood to gain her no money. And after all, keeping Ranma around was in her best interest, now that he was teaching classes at the dojo.

As for Preston, he would come to regret ever having crossed blades with Tendou Nabiki - of that she would make absolutely sure. The time would come for her to counter his move and turn it against him. She just had to be patient. Their duel was not over yet.

"I commend you, Preston-kun," Nabiki said, at last able to meet his steady gaze. "You aren't nearly as stupid as you look."

"And you aren't nearly as smart as you'd like to think," Preston responded, his tone just as level as hers.

Nabiki shrugged. So she'd underestimated him and let her guard down. It was a temporary setback as far as she was concerned. "That's fine," she said, and flashed him a fierce grin. "I'm still fabulously charming and beautiful, after all."

Preston smirked. "And modest, too."

"Oh, yes, how could I forget," Nabiki agreed dryly. "Modesty is one of my very finest qualities."

End Part IV

* * *

Part V will be the fight of the century, as Ranma teams up with Harry Potter to take on Darth Vader and the Care Bears! _*Explosion noise*_


	5. Part V: The Challenge

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other copyright holders who are not me. All obnoxious original characters in this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

* * *

**Spring of Drowned Dojo**  
_The Life and Times of an Aquatransexual Martial Arts Instructor_

A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions  
written by Ambulatory Kettle

* * *

Part V: The Challenge

It was a cool Sunday morning, and now and then a gust of fall wind blew in through the open door to the training hall. The wood floor was chill beneath Ranma's crossed legs. But he hardly noticed it for the frustration boiling in his mind and the angry red welt burning just below his left eye. He glanced over at Akane, sitting a good meter away and pointedly not looking at him.

_Uncute tomboy,_ he thought forcefully.

His mother, sitting opposite them, finally spoke into the tense silence. "I honestly cannot see why this sort of thing keeps happening. I've been told that when Ranma first arrived you two got off on the wrong foot, but you have had more than enough time to get back on the right one. So I can't understand why you insist on continuing this nonsense. You get along so well sometimes, but you're both so _guarded_ against each other. Really, being more than friends does not require you to be enemies!"

Ranma was trying to ignore her, but her last statement brought him to attention. _More_ than friends? Was Akane even a friend? Well, she wasn't an enemy; he had plenty of those, and she wasn't one of them. Akane was just... Akane.

"I know you're both quite fond of each other," Mother was saying.

Ranma opened his mouth to speak, but he hadn't so much as inhaled before his mother shot him an icy look.

"_Don't_ argue Ranma. This is a lecture not a discussion. And I very much doubt you want a matching welt for the other cheek."

Ranma glanced at Akane again, who was glaring at him, as if daring him to say what he had been about to. It was his turn to look pointedly away. _Che_... as if they even knew what he was going to say.

"I suppose your behavior is to some extent my fault, Ranma. If I hadn't let you go off with your father on that fool's errand, perhaps you would have learned more sense." Her voice was calm and cool, even mild, but her words retained an underlying edge that cut just exactly as intended. "When your father told me he would make you into a man worthy of the Saotome school, I did not expect him to bring me back a mere boy with the skill and body of a man..." she smiled sardonically, "or a woman. But I seem to have set my hopes too high. Considering your curse, the irony is almost..." her smile twisted, "amusing."

Ranma scowled at the far wall. _He_ didn't find it very funny. But from her expression, clearly his mother didn't either.

"But there's no point in placing blame now. Both of you are old enough to take responsibility for your own actions. Ranma, you could at least _try_ being nice to Akane. Being a man is not synonymous with ignoring your feelings - or ignoring everyone else's."

She turned to Akane. "You, young lady, I cannot try to blame on myself. In any case, you don't need to react to everything with anger and violence. There are other perfectly natural and more ladylike responses, even when you really _are_ angry."

Ranma smirked at the ceiling beams. Heh, his mother had called Akane "young lady." Yeah right. And besides, when was Akane _not_ angry?

Mother took a breath, as if preparing herself to go on. "I think you should both try to start over. Get to know each other again, from the beginning. If I can keep your fathers from pressuring you like they always do, you might even learn to get along peaceably. Or at least you might stop causing so much havoc. What do you say?"

Ranma looked at Akane, and then away again, and she did likewise. No one spoke.

Mother, who had been sitting the whole time very proper and straight-backed, sighed heavily and seemed to deflate. "Why do I even bother? It's hopeless. You two _can't_ get along. You're both just too immature."

"Hey!" Ranma growled indignantly. Akane looked equally annoyed.

"It's impossible." Mother was no longer speaking to them, merely lamenting aloud. "You're just not capable of acting like adults."

"Excuse me!" Akane blurted.

"Who says I'm not capable?" Ranma protested angrily. People came to this dojo and called him _Sensei_, damnit; that _meant_ something.

"I'm sorry," his mother said, shaking her head in sad resignation, "but I just don't believe you two can stop fighting and act like mature individuals, betrothed or otherwise."

"We can too!" Akane shouted, and punched the floorboards.

"Damn right we can!" Ranma seconded.

"Fine," his mother leaned forward. "Then it's a challenge!"

Ranma leaned in as well. "You're on!" he agreed in unison with Akane. He looked at her, and saw his own momentary confusion mirrored in her expression.

"Good," Mother said. She sat back, and broke into a smile. "It's decided then. As long as you two can keep from fighting over such trivial things and make an effort to get along - and stop avoiding your feelings - then I will keep the old men off your backs."

Blinking dumbfoundedly, Ranma glanced at Akane. She looked as much at a loss as he did.

"But the hitting, the name-calling, the childish bickering, it's got to stop," his mother continued. "If it doesn't, well, I win, and then..."

She trailed off, and all Ranma could hear was is own breathing.

In a small voice, as though she was not at all sure she wanted to hear the response, Akane prompted: "And then...?"

Mother's smile melted into a grin. "... We shall see. I'm sure I can come up with suitable terms of victory." She idly fingered the katana hilt at her side.

The cold shiver that went down Ranma's spine was completely subsumed beneath the shame that burned hotter than his frustration with Akane or his swollen cheek. At that moment, he was sure that for once Akane's thoughts had to be running parallel to his. His mother's sudden shift to hopelessness had been a feint, false weakness to get them to fight back at the wrong time. They had both just walked headfirst into her trap, and there was no backing out.

* * *

From her hiding place behind the door, Nabiki waited and listened, not daring to breathe. Thin slices of her sister and Ranma came into view through the gap between the door and the frame.

"Great, Ranma, now what?"

"I dunno, why're you asking me?"

"You're the one who got us into this!"

"_Me_! If you hadn'ta-"

"My, that couldn't be childish bickering I hear, now could it!" Auntie Saotome's voice rang out from further inside the dojo. Nabiki detected a jerk of movement as Akane started at the sound.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else...?" Akane suggested.

"Yeah..." Ranma agreed, and the two figures disappeared from view, the sounds of their hasty footfalls retreating into the distance.

Nabiki stepped out from behind the door.

"Well played, Auntie."

Saotome Nodoka, who was just rising to her feet, looked up in surprise. "Nabiki-chan! I had no idea you were behind there."

"I came here as soon as the fight started. I wanted to watch and see how our little ploy went."

Auntie Saotome glanced out the doorway in the direction Ranma and Akane had lately fled, her brow creasing. "Do you really think this will work?"

"Barring unforeseen circumstances," Nabiki replied. The plan was a flawed one, but that hardly mattered. The next piece that she put into motion would be the important one - at least from her standpoint.

"You did well," Nabiki continued. "Now we'll just have to let things play themselves out."

"You don't think I overdid it? It was hard to call Ranma a 'mere boy' like that - close to the mark as it seems sometimes, he does have an honorable heart."

Close to the mark indeed. Nabiki could hardly argue with that part at least.

"No, I don't think you overdid it," she replied. "Not that it matters now, since your performance seems to have done the trick." Remembering herself, Nabiki added, "Oh, yes. I talked to Preston-kun, and he not only agreed to let you stay in the new house, he said you can have it all to yourself, for as long as you like. As far as he's concerned, feel free to treat the place as your home."

Auntie Saotome stared at her, astonished. "Really? He said that?"

Nabiki nodded. Whatever else he was, Preston was generous. "He said he didn't much care for sitting in a big, empty house by himself. As soon as I mentioned the idea of you staying there, he started packing up his things."

He had been eager to oblige when Nabiki had explained that Ranma's mother would play an integral part in the plot to get Ranma and Akane together. His enthusiasm only deepened Nabiki's conviction that he had some ulterior motive, some secondary goal that she would make sure he never achieved as a result of the match-up.

"But..." Auntie Saotome's brow creased in concern, "where will Preston-kun be staying? He's a foreigner after all; where will he go?"

"Who knows?" Nabiki shrugged. _Who cares?_

Nabiki changed the subject. "Thank you again, by the way, Auntie," she said, honestly gratified. "I never would have been able to pull this off without you." In fact, she might not have ever come up with the scheme at all if she hadn't asked Auntie Saotome to help her in the first place.

"No need to thank me," Auntie Saotome replied readily. "You know I'd do anything to secure Ranma's future, not to mention his happiness." She turned a curious eye on Nabiki. "But tell me, Nabiki-chan... why are YOU going to so much trouble to bring my son and his fiancée closer together?"

Nabiki smiled, hoping it wasn't too thin. "Sometimes generosity has its own rewards."

While she had never really believed in such platitudes, maybe there was some truth to the statement. After all, it was certainly going to be enjoyable getting back at Preston without ever straying from her new "duty" to help cultivate Akane and Ranma's relationship.

* * *

Ranma strolled along in his usual place atop the fence. He glanced over the edge at the river below. Kind of a dangerous place to walk, particularly for him. And on a blustery day like this, all the moreso. But he liked the feeling of risk.

"You know, Ranma, I don't think we've ever just gone for a walk like this before."

This after the long silence between them since leaving the dojo; whatever Ranma had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it.

"Whaddaya mean? We walk like this all the time."

"Well, sure, we walk to school, and on errands and stuff - but I'm not sure we've ever taken a walk just for the sake of getting out and walking."

"We ain't walkin' to walk, we're walkin' to talk," Ranma grumbled irritably. And then paused in mid-step, trying to think if those words had come out in the right order. "Takin' a wa... talkin' to...?"

Akane giggled.

"What're you snickering at?" Ranma shot, eyeing her. But his annoyance was rudely interrupted by her smile.

"You really are in a bad mood, aren't you?" She kept smiling that same sweet Akane-smile, even more annoying than the silent treatment because it gave him this odd lightheaded feeling - only it was in the pit of his stomach instead of his head, which was always disconcerting.

Ranma put his hands behind his head and looked up at the sky, trying to sound sarcastic while ignoring the tickle that was crawling up his insides. "Now what could possibly make you think that?"

"Who knows? You haven't called me any names yet, so how am I supposed to tell?"

She was laughing at him behind those brightly smiling eyes, Ranma knew. He stuck his tongue out at her. "Very funny. You saw the one mom just pulled over on us."

"Yeah... but it's not like she can really stop us from fighting when she's not here."

Ranma frowned. What was that... quiet cast to her voice...?

"No, I mean it's her trick that's got me pissed-off."

"Oh..." Akane said.

There it was again...

"Hey, what are you getting so glum about?"

"Nothing," she replied without looking at him, a hint of sharpness in her tone.

She had just been smiling and practically laughing a minute ago. _Man, girls and their crazy mood-swings,_ Ranma thought.

He jumped down off the fence to land in front of her.

"Hey, Akane! Bleaaah!" he said as he hooked a finger on either side of his mouth, stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes.

Akane raised an open hand to smack him, but then let it fall, her expression and voice falling with it. "Cut it out, Ranma."

She walked around him to continue down the street.

"Hey, aren't you gonna hit me?" Ranma asked, masking the concern in his voice with his genuine confusion.

"Your mom said no fighting," she said, her voice subdued.

"Uncute."

That got her. Akane's fists clenched at her sides as Ranma clenched his teeth, anticipating the coming blow.

But it never came.

"Oh, leave me alone!" she sobbed softly, and stalked off.

She... sobbed? Ranma saw something glittering down through the wind-blown air, and he reached out to catch it. But it was just a drop of water. Strange, it wasn't raining...

Gazing at his palm, Ranma's eyes widened. He looked after the quickly retreating figure of Akane. Was she... crying?

"Shit," Ranma muttered. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

He rubbed his head; there should have been a bump growing there now, but there wasn't. Instead, he had tears on his hands.

* * *

When Nabiki finally found Preston, he was banging about in the Tendou attic, of all places.

"There you are. What are you doing up here?"

"Mm," he grunted, and continued to shift boxes around.

_What's he up to?_ she wondered. _That's probably Happousai's stuff. I should warn him not to mess with it._

Would he listen? Probably not.

Nabiki sighed, and pressed on with her obligatory update.

"I thought you'd want to know that everything is going smoothly, and my plan to use Auntie Saotome's influence -" Nabiki broke off as she got close enough to make out the contents of the clutter: a rolled- up futon, one acoustic and three electric guitars, an amp and set of hi-fi, and assorted boxes of various sizes. All things that clearly didn't belong to Happousai or the anyone in the Tendou family and most definitely did not belong in their attic.

"What in the world are you doing?" she demanded.

Preston dropped a large box in one corner with a thump. "Moving my stuff. What are you doing?"

"You can't move in here!"

"Why?" Preston looked around the musty attic. "Seems like a perfectly reasonable place to park my stuff. Nobody's even been up here for weeks, maybe months."

Nabiki closed her eyes briefly, calming herself.

"This is Grandfather Happousai's space, and he won't take kindly to you... invading it. He does go off on a lot of long... 'training trips,' but he's due back any day now."

"'Zat so?" Preston responded distractedly, blithely shoving a pile of bras and panties aside to make room for a white-bodied Stratocaster that he swung down from his shoulder. "What's with all this underwear?"

He wasn't listening to her. Nabiki's ire flared. _So much for talking sense to a crazy foreign idiot._ But the last thing she wanted was to give Preston a place to stay.

"Happousai is dangerous," she entreated. "He'll take you apart without a second thought. He's caused enough mayhem around here already - so have you. I'm not going to have you stirring up more trouble. Now... get out."

Preston looked up from his rearrangements, brushing dust from his hands. "One question. Who the hell's Happousai?"

"What a haul! What a haul!"

As if on cue, the shrunken little pervert came bounding through an open attic window with a fat sack slung over one shoulder like some kind of demented Santa-goblin.

"Nabiki-chan!" he cried when he saw her. "So nice of you to greet me! C'mere, cutie!"

He leapt at her. Nabiki recoiled, desperately wishing she'd brought her clipboard - or anything - to use as a shield.

Happousai stopped short in mid-air, his feet swinging forward abruptly as if he'd been caught by his collar. Behind him, Preston had grabbed the edge of the sack, and held it with Happousai dangling from it. The old man looked down at the floor below him in puzzlement.

"Whatcha got in here?" Preston said, reaching into the sack.

He came away with the strap of a lacy bra clutched in his fist.

"Huh," he said, blinking at it.

"Hey! Give that back!"

Happousai snatched the bra away. Eyeing Preston up and down, he turned to Nabiki. "Nabiki, what's this gaijin kid doing here?"

"I'm moving in," Preston answered before she could. "What's it to you, gramps?"

Happousai stared at Preston blankly for a second, then turned back to Nabiki. "What's he saying, I don't speak gaijin."

"He's speaking Japanese," Nabiki replied in annoyance.

"Nonsense. Western gaijin like him don't speak Japanese, they speak crazy moon-man talk or whatever."

Well, Preston certainly seemed to speak crazy moon-man talk, even when he was speaking Japanese, but Nabiki supposed that that was what came of being a crazy foreigner.

"So, what, are you some kinda cross-dresser or something?" Preston asked, looking down at one of the many piles of women's undergarments. "Just for fun, or do you do a show or something?" He shuddered. "Ugh, nevermind, don't answer that."

The fact that Preston was indeed speaking Japanese seemed to percolate through some spongy nexus in Happousai's brain.

"I'm _not_ a cross-dresser!" the ancient lecher snapped. "Have more respect for your elders!"

"You're not?" Preston asked incredulously, gingerly picking up a little pair of white-with-pink-lace panties from the top of a pile. "But why else would you have all this women's underwear?" He dropped the panties back on the pile. "Unless you're some kind of pervert."

"I'm _not_ a pervert!"

"So, what, being a cross-dresser wouldn't make him a pervert?" Nabiki interjected.

Preston shook his head thoughtfully. "No. Not necessarily. Just... a hobbyist."

Nabiki snorted.

Happousai stepped toward Preston, the look on his face spelling danger to Nabiki's senses.

"You need to learn some manners. I don't know what horrible, inhumane things you do to old people in gaijin-land, but in Japan you'll show your elders proper respect!"

"'Zat so?" Preston said for the second time in as many minutes. While his tone remained just as casual, there was a steely glint in his eyes.

Nabiki knew she would have to intervene. Now.

"Grandfather is very dangerous," she blurted in English.

Preston looked up at her, and blinked.

"'Zat so?"

Nabiki pressed on, trying to formulate her thoughts in a language that felt clumsy in her mouth. "He is very... much... menace to Tendou house. And to family. He hurt Ranma. Many times he... do bad things."

Preston nodded slowly. "I think I understand you," he replied, sticking to Japanese. He turned and stepped to the box he had set down nearby, and rummaged through it.

"Do you like swimsuits, too, Grandfather?" he asked, pulling out a small leather-bound book.

Happousai perked up. If he'd had dog ears, they would have stood at attention. "Swimsuits?"

His reaction did not go unnoticed by Preston. He motioned the old man over. "Lemme show you some pictures." He opened the volume and held it down low for the dwarfish Happousai to see.

"Hmm, pictures... well, not as good as the real thing, but..." Happousai muttered as he trod up to Preston's side.

"See - here's me, and that's Kristina, and Julie, and Brenda-"

_"Whoa, mama!"_ Happousai's eyes went wide as dinner plates.

Curious to know what Preston was about, but determined to hide her interest, Nabiki put on a bored expression and walked sedately over to peer around his shoulder at the photo album he was showing Happousai.

The photographs all seemed to be of girls - young women, high school aged perhaps, though it was harder to tell with Westerners. The photos had obviously been taken on some beach outing, mostly by Preston it would appear, since he featured in very few of them.

"_Now_ who's a pervert?" she said in an undervoice. "Taking pictures of girls in their swimsuits?"

Preston grinned at her. "Look who's talking, Miss Candid Photography."

Nabiki took a step back. How did he...? Kunou had made a comment, but he had to have gotten the details from someone else. Probably Ranma. She lowered her brows at him in warning. His grin simply transformed into something more reminiscent of a smirk.

Happousai reached a shaky hand toward one of the pictures, a huge, full-page glossy of three bikini-clad girls with snorkels on their foreheads, arms thrown around each other in smiling camaraderie - and all leaning forward enough to give most young men a severe nasal hemorrhage. He stroked the picture longingly, as if wishing to reach through it like some kind of magic window into lecher-land.

"Wh... where is this place?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Australia," Preston replied simply.

"Aaaw-straliaaaah..." Happousai repeated, as if tasting the syllables.

"It's far to the south, so it's warm most of the year, and the girls go out to the beach in their swimsuits all the time. In fact, it's Springtime there right now, just the beginning of the real big beach season. All those young women, getting ready to show off their swimsuits to men who appreciate the finer things in life. Men just like you, Grandfather."

"Australia..." Happousai whispered again, as if uttering the name of some far-off mythical kingdom.

"I can... tell you how to get there," Preston offered. "If you like."

Nabiki's jaw dropped, and she hastened to clamp it shut.

"Tell me! Show me!" Happousai's voice was somewhere between pleading and demanding. "I must go there!"

"Well, you see, it's really quite simple..." Preston began, leaning over to sift through the box that had produced the photo album. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. "Here, let me just fix you up a map and some directions. See, first you gotta catch a boat to Vancouver..."

Nabiki watched with a mix of amusement and trepidation as Preston gave Happousai thorough instructions for what had to be the longest, most round-about route to Australia.

Happousai seemed to hang on every word Preston spoke, nodding and making encouraging noises, but Nabiki had the feeling that all that was going on behind his intent eyes was a continuous loop of imaginary Australian girls in bikinis.

When Preston was finished, Happousai snatched up the paper gleefully and bounded out the window without a backward glance.

"Yahoo! Hot gaijin mamas, here I come!"

His cackling faded into the distance.

"Congratulations," Nabiki said coolly. "You managed to get rid of Happousai. But with the directions you gave him, he's not likely to even get out of Tokyo before he gives up and comes back here. All you did was buy yourself some time, and not much of that."

Preston gave a little laugh. "Maybe so. Even if he doesn't make it all the way to Australia, by the time he gets back I'm sure I'll be moved out. But don't underestimate him - the drive of pure lechery is a powerful force."

"You'd know," Nabiki threw back at him.

"Oh?" His smile widened. "Is that what you think? Is that an invitation to prove you wrong or... to prove you right?" He stepped toward her, and placed a hand under her chin.

Nabiki glared up at him, and hoped she wasn't blushing as well from his overly-familiar closeness. "You wouldn't _dare_." He was bold, yes, but he wasn't stupid.

"Wouldn't I?" he said, but dropped his hand. "But no, you're right. I'm saving my... romantic advances for someone with a soul that has a temperature above freezing. Or maybe just someone with a soul."

_I'll show you freezing..._ Nabiki narrowed her eyes into a razor-sharp edge. Preston's eyebrows went up as if they'd been scorched - or frost burnt.

"Whoo. Even colder than I thought," he said.

"Get out of here."

"Sorry, not yet. But I won't be staying here that long. Just until I find someplace else that's nearby. For now, this is it."

Nabiki seethed. "You can't afford the rent!"

He leveled a serious gaze at her. "I'm allowing you the use of my house and my property. The _least_ you can do is allow me to crash in your attic for awhile. If you insist on charging me, I'm sure I can match the cost against what _you_ owe _me_ and pay the difference. If there is any."

Nabiki gritted her teeth. "I don't owe you anything. I _never_ owe. I only collect."

"What a sad state to be in," Preston remarked. "Taking, but never giving."

The sudden sincere empathy of his words hit Nabiki like a blow, and a momentary pang of... something ached in her chest. But an instant later it was gone like a bad dream - much to her relief.

Nabiki turned away; took a breath.

"When were you ever in Australia?"

She could see Preston smile out of the corner of her eye.

"Last summer. It was a school trip - not my school, my friends' school. But I managed to tag along with them."

"And all of your friends at that school happened to be girls?" Nabiki asked. "Who all liked to wear revealing swimsuits?"

"Well, it _was_ an all-girls school."

Nabiki's jaw dropped for the second time. "How did you-?"

"Get to go on a trip with an all-girls school? Don't ask. It's a long story, and it involves several instances of cross-dressing. Since you said you thought cross-dressing was perverted, I'm afraid the story might offend your... delicate sensibilities. Maybe I'll tell you about it if you agree not to charge me rent."

* * *

Standing with hands in his pockets, Ranma watched Kasumi and his mother hanging out the laundry to dry. The breeze had not let up as the day waxed towards noon, and they wrestled with a blanket as the wind buffeted it about playfully.

Ranma tried to ignore his own irritation. _Just confront her and get it over with already,_ he told himself.

"Look, mom, this idea of yours... it ain't gonna work," he spoke up, since Mother seemed intent on ignoring him in favor of her mundane task.

"Oh? Admitting defeat already?" she asked with a mild, detached interest as she clipped one corner of a sheet to the line.

"No!" Ranma shouted - somewhat more forcefully than he had intended. But the idea of conceding defeat in any situation... it just made his skin crawl. "That's not what I mean," he said trying to compose himself despite his annoyance. "Akane's out there blubbering now 'cause-'cause..." Ranma trailed off. Just why had Akane been crying? Maybe he should have thought this through before he confronted his mother about it.

"Oh dear," said Kasumi. "Whatever did you do to make Akane cry?"

"Hey, who says _I_ made her cry?" Ranma protested.

"Well, did you?" questioned his mother.

"No!"

She fixed him with a level gaze. "Then why was she crying?"

That was just what he'd like to know. But he was _sure_ that it had something to do with this damn challenge of his mother's. "Er... well, I guess she started crying 'cause... she wanted to hit me, but... you said, you know... no hitting," Ranma finished guiltily, then tried to mentally shake the feeling off. After all, what was there for him to feel guilty about anyway? It was just one of those damn guilt-inducing mother-gazes.

"Hmmm..." his mother considered. "You didn't call her uncute again, did you?"

"Nuh... no!" Ranma stammered.

"You're sure you didn't?" His mother raised an eyebrow. Ranma didn't reply; it was hard to lie to his own mother, even if she hadn't raised him very far beyond infancy.

"Well, if your fiancée is wandering the streets of Tokyo crying, what on earth are _you_ doing _here_?" she asked, pursing her lips critically, her expression becoming, if possible, even more quizzical. That look said more than enough: if he went to make up with Akane, his mother wouldn't call him on the breach of conduct.

"Right," Ranma muttered unenthusiastically, and turned to go. Ranma saw all too clearly now that his own failures in this unorthodox challenge were easily turned to her advantage. And his ultimate victory would really be her victory... how then, to defeat her?

_Mom must have been planning this scheme for a long time,_ Ranma thought. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have said Nabiki was behind the whole thing - but that was just absurd.

"Just a moment, Ranma."

He turned back to gaze at his mother grumpily. "What?"

"Why don't you try apologizing? I know you're capable of it."

"Huh?" Ranma grunted in bafflement. "Whaddya mean, apologizing?"

"Apologizing. It means saying you're sorry; taking responsibility for what you've done - like a _man_ - then asking for forgiveness."

Ranma glared. "I know _that_. I mean, what am I supposed to be apologizing for?"

Mother's eyes rolled subtly heavenward.

"Come inside a minute. I want to talk to you."

Ranma had a sinking feeling, but he followed her inside anyway.

"I'll get some tea for you two," Kasumi said as Ranma and his mother seated themselves at the table.

Ranma shifted uncomfortably, waiting for his mother to say something.

"Windy today, isn't it?" she smiled vaguely towards the kitchen where Kasumi could be heard preparing hot water.

"Uh..." Ranma replied, shifting again.

Mother speared him with her calm eyes. "So, tell me what happened," she said gently. But Ranma knew it was not the quiet request it might seem.

He fidgeted. "Nuthin'..."

She remained silent, but her eyes somehow prompted him to speak again.

"Well... it's like this, okay. When Akane starts acting all sad like that, it just... it just bugs the crap outta me! I dunno why, it just does. It's not like her. So I... tried to get her angry. If she hits me, sure, it hurts, but I can handle it. At least then I know she's not being a crybaby."

Mother's expression was unreadable. "I see..."

Not knowing whether to feel reassurance or not, Ranma pressed on anyway. "So ya see, it's like she _needs_ to hit me. Or hit something, anyway. So she doesn't get all weepy and stuff."

In a momentary flash of... something - fear? - Ranma realized that his explanation played right into his mother's previous assessment: that he offered himself up as a target for Akane to take out her frustration on; that he _let_ her hit him so she'd feel better. Was that really true? Was he really an unconsciously complicit punching bag?

Mother's expression was still calm as usual. Ranma thought he heard her whisper what sounded like, "My son is an idiot," but it could have been the wind whistling under the eaves.

"And when you... tried to make her angry... just how do you think it made Akane feel?"

"Angry, how else?"

Kasumi entered carrying a tray with three cups of tea. She set one before Ranma, one in front of his mother, and then sat down before her own cup to sip gingerly at the still steaming liquid. Ranma eyed his finely painted ceramic cup, gazing at his reflection, green and distorted through the softly swirling tea. Better to wait a bit. That full-body cat-tongue thing that Cologne had put on him may have been cured, but it seemed to have lingered a bit in his mouth even after all this time.

Mother sipped her own tea and sighed, but whether at her son or at the pleasant taste of tea, Ranma couldn't say. "It may be hard for you," she began, "but imagine for a moment that there is someone who you care about a great deal, someone you don't necessarily always get along with but who means a lot to you."

"Um... alright," Ranma replied warily. Where was she going with this? He tried to imagine - not knowing anyone like that, it would undoubtedly be difficult. But for some reason, when he focused his mind to the task, he was reminded of Akane's smile, like the one she had given him earlier that day, and a twinge of the same odd antigravity sensation tingled lightly in the region of his solar-plexus.

_Weird..._ he mused. _Must be, like, a stomach acid flashback or something._

"Now," his mother was saying, "imagine that this person, whom you care about so much, says the one thing that they can say that hurts you the most. How do you think that would make you feel?"

Ranma rubbed the back of his head. "Well... I guess I'd feel... kinda shitty...?"

There was that unexplained guilt again. Where did his mother keep pulling the stuff from?

"Pretty damn shitty, I'd say," Mother opined.

Kasumi nodded in agreement, though she seemed a little incensed at the choice of language. Or maybe she was just annoyed at _him_. There was a scary thought. If Kasumi ever got more than mildly irritated with you, you could be pretty certain you'd done something very bad.

"And could you understand using anger to cover up that pain?" his mother asked.

"Yeah... I guess. But what's that got to do with anything?"

Mother smiled ever-so-slightly. "Congratulations Ranma. You've just put yourself in Akane's shoes."

* * *

"Che!" Ranma muttered as he walked down the street kicking at a loose stone, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. "Akane's shoes... Akane's shoes are too small for me, even if she has got big, clunky tomboy-feet." He kicked the stone hard, and it skipped off the top of a low cinderblock wall and over a house. Akane didn't care about him like that... did she?

Ranma stared down at his shadow, puddled darkly beneath him in the high noon sunlight. The wind whipped around the corner and ruffled his dark hair as he glowered at the asphalt.

Well, on the off chance that his mother _was_ right, that sure as hell didn't explain why Akane hit him all the time. You don't go around hitting the people you care about. _He_ never hit _her_.

Not that that meant he cared about her or anything. He just didn't hit girls, that was all.

His eyes followed the shadow cast by the eaves of the next house, stretching out in a straight line before him.

Yes. Plain and simple. Akane was a girl. He was a guy - even when he was maybe technically female. And as a guy, he did not hit girls. And that was all.

He walked on past the next block of houses, not really sure where he was going, or where to look if he wanted to find Akane.

_Did_ he want to find Akane? He felt... reluctant.

Afraid? Surely not. But he would almost rather flee than face this mysterious guilt that his mother's words had awakened in him. No, not awakened; implanted. He hadn't done anything... had he?

Ranma's eyelids, teeth, and fists all clenched together as a wave of frustration washed over him.

_Chikusho!_ he swore silently.

He inhaled, slowly, through his nostrils - exhaled. Ranma opened his eyes.

He needed to talk to somebody about this. Not his mother. Not his fiancée. Pop was right out. He needed to talk to someone who would listen. Not someone who would just wait for their turn to talk, but someone who would really... listen.

Rising to his toes, Ranma spun and leapt atop the low cinderblock wall, and from there onto the roof of a nearby house, following the path of the stone he'd kicked as he made his way back to the dojo.

* * *

"Hey, listen, Kouryuu, can I... talk to you for a sec?"

Kouryuu looked up from the book he was perusing while idly doing some stretches in a secluded corner of the spacious Tendou yard. Ranma's anxious face greeted his eyes. Kouryuu straightened, bringing his one vertical leg down and closing his book.

"Of course, Ranma-san. What do you wish to discuss?"

Ranma's gaze flicked away off to his right somewhere, then up at the sky. Whatever he had been planning to say he had apparently lost his nerve - very unlike him. It hinted that something was bothering Ranma a great deal. Kouryuu simply waited patiently for him to find his way back to the subject.

"Uh..." Ranma began, still not meeting Kouryuu's gaze, "what're you reading?"

"Oh, this?" Kouryuu glanced at the book he'd almost forgotten he was holding. "Oh, nothing, really. It's just a book on martial arts that Emi, er, Sakai-san lent me." He looked at the title, "It's called, 'The Book of Five Rings.' Have you read it?"

Ranma shook his head distractedly. "Not much for books."

"Sakai-san said every martial artist should read it. She was shocked I hadn't, but I suppose that's what comes from being raised in a secluded monastery in the mountains," Kouryuu said. "Nothing really new in here, for you and me, I'd guess, but interesting nonetheless."

Kouryuu had only really been paging through it. He usually found martial arts texts only mildly diverting at best. Serious reading time he reserved for more engaging material - like Kasumi's fascinating collection of what she had called "shoujo manga." Much to his delight, the eldest Tendou daughter had generously lent Kouryuu the whole lot. She claimed they no longer held her interest like they used to, but for the life of him, Kouryuu couldn't fathom why.

_I suppose I'll never understand women,_ he thought.

"So, about growing up in a monastery..." Ranma was saying. "I know you might not know much about women, but..."

Kouryuu had to wonder if Ranma had been reading his thoughts.

"I can't say that I know much about women, no."

Ranma shrugged. "Yeah, me neither." He made the admission almost dejectedly, but with a distinct air of relief.

Kouryuu's brows went up. Did this mean that other men found women as incomprehensible as Kouryuu did? Or... maybe _all_ men found women incomprehensible...?

_No, that's preposterous,_ Kouryuu told himself. _What sort of cruel joke would the world be if that were true?_

"So, I was wondering..." Ranma went on. "Do chicks, like, ever... really _get_ to you?"

Kouryuu considered this. "I suppose. Could you... be more specific?"

Ranma's eyes searched back and forth, as if he were scanning some distant and deeply troubling manuscript. "I mean... do they ever... has a girl ever done something that bothered you more than it should have? And you couldn't explain why?" Now that he'd finally gotten going, Kouryuu saw it was like a floodgate had opened, and everything on Ranma's worried mind seemed to come out in a stream of pent-up frustration. "So, maybe you go and do something dumb, and you can't really explain that either, but you were _trying_ to do the right thing, but you just end up saying something _stupid_ and messing things up more, and then your _mom_ gets on your case-"

Kouryuu walked up and placed his hands on Ranma's shoulders. "Breathe," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even.

Ranma sucked in a huge breath, and held it. After a moment, he let it out again. "Sorry. I'm just babbling." He turned away, breaking Kouryuu's loose hold on his shoulders. "I'll... leave you alone."

"Wait."

Ranma looked up, hope and fear clearly written in his gaze.

Kouryuu sighed. "I... may not be the best person to ask about this, but... I'm willing to listen." He gestured to the grass beneath a small tree tucked into the very corner of the wall that surrounded the two residences and dojos. Ranma sat, and Kouryuu joined him, both settling themselves cross-legged on the still slightly damp grass.

"Now," Kouryuu said. "Is this about Akane?"

Ranma didn't answer, just sat pulling strands of grass up with one hand, his eyes downcast. He mumbled something that sounded like, "Stupid dumb macho chick don't even..." and trailed off, his words becoming too quiet and incoherent for Kouryuu to make anything out.

Eventually, the story came out, this time somewhat less rushed. Kouryuu didn't interrupt, even for clarification, but just let Ranma get the whole thing out in his own rambling way. Half the time it sounded like Ranma was defending himself, half the time berating himself, but Kouryuu was able to get a pretty good idea of what had happened, of what had apparently been happening for quite some time now between Ranma and his fiancée, as well as the new development of this "challenge" from Ranma's mother.

When the tale was done, Kouryuu sat for awhile mulling over how to respond. Ranma watched him silently, his gaze growing more anxious with each passing moment, prompting Kouryuu to speak.

"Bear with me here, please, Ranma-san," Kouryuu began hesitantly, "I don't know much about women, so this might seem a little irrelevant but... I'm sure you know that you never want to let yourself fall into a pattern when fighting, right? Especially a pattern of attack and defense that your opponent can see through and exploit?"

Ranma blinked. "Of course. You use any patterns in your opponent's style against him and make sure he can't do the same to you. That's a major part of the Anything Goes school."

"And of any worthy style," Kouryuu agreed. "But all humans fall into patterns very easily. In my experience, the world is virtually made up of patterns for people to fall into. If you take a step back and look around you, your whole life revolves around patterns. Each day you get up, you go to school, you come home..."

Kouryuu paused. He wasn't even sure himself where he was going with this. He felt like a blind man following a piece of fishing line through a dark void. But the line was there. And Ranma was sitting up straight and watching him attentively, waiting for him to continue, so... maybe this line of reasoning was going somewhere after all.

"These patterns aren't always bad. But if you fall into an unhealthy pattern, it can be hard to see it - even harder to break out of it."

He paused again, gathering his thoughts.

"When I was a very small child, the other boys at the monastery picked on me to no end. I got into the pattern of being their victim. Then one day I got fed up with it, and I fought back. Of course, they learned to gang up on me, and I fell into a pattern of fighting back and losing. Later, when I'd developed my martial arts style with fighting multiple opponents in mind, I was able to break out of the pattern again, and I started winning every fight instead of losing. But that wasn't the end, because I fell into a new pattern - a pattern of horrible violence, fighting every day and... 'beating the tar out of' my fellow novices. That pattern was the worst, because it lasted the longest and was the hardest to break out of. It's only been about five years since I left the monastery and vowed to dedicate myself to the perfection of the art and the self, and not simply the perpetuation of violence."

Ranma was staring at Kouryuu somewhat wide-eyed.

Kouryuu looked away. "I'm... sorry, I don't know if what I'm saying is of any help to you. I feel like I'm just monologuing idly."

"No," Ranma disagreed, to Kouryuu's surprise. "I... I think I see what you're getting at." He paused, licking his lips, his eyes once again searching. "I guess what you're saying is... me an' Akane... we've got ourselves in a pattern we need to break out of. A pattern where she hits me and stuff."

Ranma had put it into words much more succinctly and accurately than Kouryuu could have even summarized the vague impressions in his head. "Yes," he confirmed.

Ranma laughed with relief. "So it really isn't my fault!"

Kouryuu pursed his lips. "Ah... it's not about whose fault it is. It's about taking responsibility and making an effort to break out of the bad pattern - and with any luck, establish a better one."

Ranma's face fell. He chewed his lip. "But... how'm I supposed to do that?"

Kouryuu sighed, shaking his head. "You talked to your mother, right? What did she say you should do?"

Ranma frowned. "Said I should apologize."

"That sounds like a reasonable suggestion to me."

Ranma's frown just deepened as he fidgeted with a few loose strands of grass he had uprooted.

Kouryuu thought for a moment. "You know, Preston would be a better person to talk to about your troubles with Akane. He knows a lot more about relationships than I do, especially male-female ones."

"Actually," Ranma replied, his face pensive, "I kinda did talk to him about it. A little. A while back."

"And what advice did he give you?"

Ranma threw the strands of grass into the wind with a frustrated jerk of his arm. "That I should talk to Akane about all this."

Kouryuu nodded. "Both of those sound like good ideas. You should try them."

Ranma met his gaze. "What would _you_ do?"

Kouryuu put a hand up and scratched his chin. What _would_ he do?

"Watch for the pattern," he answered. "Just like in martial arts. Watch for the pattern, and when you see it, stop. Compose yourself. Because you're part of the pattern, and the only way you can break it is to stop being a part of it. I think I knew that in the back of my mind, when I attacked those Amazons near the monastery. I think I as _trying_ to get banished - I had to leave to break the pattern."

"Are you saying I should just... leave?"

"No," Kouryuu replied. "Leaving was probably the only way I could break the pattern I'd fallen into, because it involved me and a dozen or more others who weren't about to cooperate with me. But for you it's different. If you talk to Akane, you can _both_ work to break the pattern. You can work to break it together."

Ranma's gaze went distant. "... Together..."

"Ranma!" a voice broke in. "What are you still doing here?"

Kouryuu looked around. Saotome Nodoka stood just a stone's throw away, frowning severely with her hands on her hips.

Ranma just glared at her. "None of your business."

Nodoka's mouth fell open. "Don't talk to your mother like that!"

Ranma didn't respond, just stood and turned toward the wall.

"Ranma, don't turn away from me when I'm talking to you! _Ranma_! Where do you think you're going?"

Ranma shot an annoyed glance back over his shoulder as he vaulted over the wall. "T'find Akane, where else?"

Nodoka's expression softened as her son disappeared from view. Kouryuu wondered if her anger had been partially or even wholly an act.

"So," she said calmly. "He came to you for advice, did he?"

"Apparently so," Kouryuu answered, rising and brushing grass and dew from his hakama.

"Well," Nodoka said. "I certainly hope you advised him in the right direction."

"Madam," Kouryuu bowed. "If he learned half as much from our discussion as I did, I'm sure he'll be fine."

* * *

Ranma finally found Akane sitting down by the river's edge. She was gazing out across the water, her back to him, and was completely unaware of his presence.

He could slip away unnoticed, and not disturb her...

Ranma blew out his breath in a sigh. No. That would be cowardly. And he had more or less promised his mother he would... do something. Apologize? The very idea irked him. It would be like admitting he was wrong, when it was really this repeating pattern of fighting that was wrong. Ranma himself held no blame, right?

_Keep telling yourself that,_ a little voice inside him said.

_Shut up._

Ranma considered his options. Leaving without saying anything was out of the question. Well, at least he could try and talk to her like Preston had suggested.

"Hey, Akane...?" he ventured gingerly.

Akane turned. She wasn't crying, but had the red-eyed look of someone who had been. At the sight, a tiny something wrenched painfully inside Ranma, and he struggled to jam it back into place.

_Break the pattern,_ he told himself, and felt a bit calmer.

Akane just turned away again, clasping her arms about her knees.

"What do you want, Ranma?" Her tone was hollow, dismissive.

"Akane, I... um..."

Ranma screwed up his face. What to do? Explain? That never seemed to work in the past - Akane didn't listen. _Find the pattern... break the pattern..._

"I've been thinking..." he said.

"How novel for you," Akane said blandly.

"No, I'm saying I've been thinking about this thing my mom is making us do," Ranma pressed on, trying to ignore her irritating comment and tone. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea? I mean, we don't really gotta fight all the time, right? It's like..." he was trying to reach for the glimpse of revelation that Kouryuu had given him, but it seemed to retreat before his mental fingertips, and a rising panic started to grip him. "It's like, uh, we're in this pattern, see? And - and we gotta break out of it, 'cause, uhm, 'cause you're always hitting me, and it hurts. So maybe you should stop doing that, like Mom says, right?"

As he had been talking, the muscles in Akane's neck had tightened visibly, and she sat rigid, still gazing away from him.

"Uh... Akane?" he ventured cautiously, fearing he had just said something he shouldn't have, again. What the heck HAD he said?

Akane stood, turned, walked up to Ranma, grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands, and tossed him headlong into the river.

Ranma came up spluttering and female. "Hey, what the heck'd you do that for?" she growled as best she could in her girly mezzo-soprano, clambering out of the water.

"Jerk!" was all Akane answered. She turned to stalk off.

"Wah-wait a minute! Akane!"

"I don't wanna hear it, Ranma!"

Ranma felt a new kind of panic rush up through her. That tiny piece inside threatening to wrench loose again.

"Akane, willya listen to me for once!" Ranma cried as she dashed up the embankment and leapt into Akane's path, throwing her arms wide.

Akane shifted into a fighting stance. "Get out of my way, Ranma!"

"No!" Ranma fairly shouted.

"You wanna fight?"

_"No!"_

Akane took a step back, clearly startled by the force of the outburst.

"I _don't_ wanna fight, Akane! That's what I'm tryin' to tell ya! I _don't_ wanna fight, and I don't wanna get hit no more!"

Akane had regained enough of her composure to fight back. "What are you yelling at _me_ for, dummy! You're the one who was acting like a jerk! You were practically _asking_ for me to hit you earlier, and I still didn't!"

Ranma opened her mouth to retort, but something gave her pause. Kouryuu's words from earlier floated back to her: _Watch for the pattern, and when you see it, stop. Compose yourself._

Ranma took a breath. _Find the pattern,_ she thought. _Break the pattern._

Akane was watching her, looking somewhat confused by her lapse into silence.

Now Mother's words came back to her: _... taking responsibility for what you've done - like a man - and then asking forgiveness._

"Uh, yeah," he started. "About... earlier. I'm..." he braced himself, "I'm... real sorry. I... guess I did kinda act like a jerk. I thought if I made you angry, then you wouldn't be sad anymore. It was... stupid. Sorry." Ranma felt strangely like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Akane was staring at her in complete bewilderment. "Ranma... are you... feeling all right?"

"Hey, I said I was sorry, okay?" Ranma griped, shoving her hands into damp pockets.

"O-... okay," Akane said hesitantly. "Um... apology accepted...?"

Ranma's head snapped up. "R-really?"

Akane favored her with a shy smile. "Yes, really. Don't look so surprised."

"Mmh," Ranma grunted, finding herself unable to form coherent speech for some reason.

Akane was studying her face. "What... brought this on? Just a second ago you were ready to blame everything on me."

Ranma looked away at the horizon. "I dunno. I guess I was babbling. I think... we're both to blame, really. That's what Kouryuu was saying. We make the pattern. We're responsible for it."

Akane's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? What pattern?"

"C'mon," Ranma turned. "I'll tell you about it on the way back to the dojo. I need to change outta these wet clothes."

* * *

"Look, Mom..." a still damp and female Ranma was saying to her mother. "I think there's gotta be some kinda time limit on this challenge thing."

Akane looked on silently as Auntie Saotome moved about the living area of the house that Preston had reportedly lent her the use of - indefinitely, and free of charge. She straightened things distractedly, pointedly not looking at her son-in-female-form.

"Why do you say that, Ranma?" Auntie asked.

"'Cause any good challenge needs a time limit, or it's no challenge at all. If I said I could run from here to Hiroshima and back and then it took me twenty years to do it, nobody'd be impressed."

Akane didn't think it would be wise to point out that distance running became more challenging the shorter the time limit was, whereas this challenge from Ranma's mother was quite the opposite. If Ranma was just trying to trick her mother into setting a very short time limit, Akane doubted it would work.

Auntie Saotome stood up from adjusting couch cushions, finally looking at her son. "Ranma, I don't want to discuss this with you right now. Go change back into a man and put on some dry clothes. Then maybe we can talk about time limits."

Grumbling, Ranma spun on her heel, and Akane turned to follow her out - and almost bumped right into her as she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

"Break the pattern..." Akane heard Ranma whisper.

Ranma spun back around to face her mother. "No, Mom, I think we should talk about this now."

Auntie Saotome, who had gone back to work, looked up at Ranma and grimaced. "There's nothing to say. Now go change back into a man. You can use the bathroom down the hall, if you like. There's running water now."

Ranma stepped back into the room, clearly refusing to be dismissed or ignored. Akane's gaze flicked back and forth between her and her mother.

"Ranma," Auntie said pointedly. "I will _not_ discuss anything further with you until you're back in your proper form. In fact, I don't want you in this house like that."

The flame of anger in Ranma's eyes mirrored Auntie Saotome's, and was threatening to build into a far greater inferno.

"So I'm a girl right now," Ranma said with a mock-casualness that failed to veil her rising anger. "You know what? Deal with it, Mom! Okay? I'm your son whether I've got tits or not!"

Akane tried to stifle a blush and a laugh - but it was clear that Ranma wasn't joking, and she wasn't finished either.

"I've got to deal with it, so you can just suck it up and deal with it too. You're not the one who has to _live_ in this body."

"Well I don't want my son parading about like some... some cross-dressing drag queen!" his mother retorted.

"What the f-? I'm not even _dressed_ like a girl! Shit, what world are you living in, huh? What decade? What fucking _century_! Walking around with a damned katana all the time, you're stuck in the Edo period or something! You call me immature - you can't even accept your own son for who he is!"

"Who _she_ is," Akane giggled quietly, nearly hysteric from the shock of Ranma's tirade.

Auntie Saotome's face had gone grim. "Get out of here. I can't believe that you'd say such things to your own mother. As far as I'm concerned, the challenge lasts indefinitely. And if you can't live up to it..." she paused, her eyes fierce, "then you are no longer my son."

"Fine!" Ranma turned and stormed from the room, and Akane hastened to follow. Skittering a fearful glance back over her shoulder as she went, Akane saw Auntie Saotome collapse back on the couch, looking suddenly very weary and - for the first time since Akane had known her - old.

_Ranma..._ Akane thought. _What have you done?_

* * *

"She needed to hear it," Ranma said without being prompted as she tromped out across the grounds, heading for the Tendou house. "Gotta break the pattern. She sends me away 'cause - 'cause I'm like this, an' I just go. Not any more. I'm her son, damnit. I'm her _son_."

Akane wasn't sure if Ranma was talking to her or just talking to herself, so she didn't answer.

_"Saotome Ranma!"_

The voice boomed out from their left. Akane spun - too late, something was coming straight for them. Ranma grabbed her by the waist and leapt away, just as the indistinct figure blurred passed them.

_Ryouga-kun,_ Akane realized. What was-?

Halfway across the yard, Preston was carrying a box toward the Tendou house - Akane guessed it was stuff he was moving from the house where Auntie Saotome was taking up residence. The unfortunate foreigner looked up and around at the last second, just in time to see the black nose of Ryouga's umbrella, which was coming directly for his head with all the power of a bullet train.

A momentary look of surprise on Preston's face was followed an instant later by what looked like resigned annoyance. Then the umbrella plowed into his forehead, the box dropped to the ground, and he was sent flying back half a dozen meters to land smack in the middle of the pond.

Ryouga seemed not to notice that he'd hit something, and he skid to a halt, rounding on Ranma with canines bared.

"Ranma! What's this I hear about you making Akane-san cry!"

"What's it to you, pig-boy?" Ranma quipped, dancing away from Akane and out into the open, ready for a fight.

Akane remembered what Ranma had told her about "patterns."

"I'm fine, Ryouga-kun," she said calmly, stepping forward and blocking the would-be combatants' line of sight to each other. "There's no need to fight."

"There... there isn't?" Ryouga asked, brow furrowed.

"Aw, hell, Akane," Ranma interrupted, stepping around her. "I could use a good fight. C'mon, pork chops, let's tango."

Ryouga looked like he was about to respond, when a bokken connected solidly with his head from behind.

"Ow! What in the world?" Ryouga stepped aside to reveal Piku standing just behind him.

"Who the heck are you?" Ryouga demanded.

"Hasegawa Piku," he responded. "You need to watch where you jab that umbrella. Someone could get hurt. And it's likely to be you."

Ryouga growled. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise," Piku replied, smirking.

Kouryuu had come out of the house with a steaming kettle. "Good afternoon, Hibiki-san," he said amiably, completely breaking the moment of tension. "It's good to see you again so soon." Kouryuu proceeded to pour the contents of the kettle over Ranma's head, then handed him a towel; Ranma mumbled his thanks.

"Uh... nice... nice to see you again, too," Ryouga stammered, his train of thought obviously derailed by the sudden interjection of polite friendliness into what had been shaping up into a hostile encounter.

Kouryuu emptied the remainder of the hot water onto Piku.

Preston blinked away water and looked at Kouryuu. "Thanks, but that wasn't really necessary."

"Since he hit you while you were still Preston, I thought you might want to make your retaliation in this form," Kouryuu confided.

Preston wrung out the front of his wet shirt. "Meh, whatever." He turned to Ryouga - who looked more confused than ever - and raised his bokken. "You hit me in the head with that thing," he pointed to Ryouga's umbrella. "Care to try again? Or... are you scared? Eh, scaredy-cat?"

Ryouga's face immediately went from bewildered to angry. "I don't know what you're talking about, or why your hair just changed color, but nobody calls _me_ a coward and gets away with it!"

Raising his umbrella high overhead, Ryouga brought it down in a double-handed blow that could have split a mountain. Preston raised his own weapon to ward off the attack, a hand at each end of the bokken - but it was too powerful, driving Preston to his knees and pushing his bokken down until the umbrella struck his head.

"Ha!" Ryouga cried triumphantly. He started to lift his umbrella away. Akane expected Preston to collapse in a heap on the ground. Instead, he suddenly lashed out with his bokken, sweeping Ryouga's umbrella neatly aside, and then launched himself from his kneeling position so that the top of his head slammed straight into Ryouga's baffled and completely unguarded face.

Ryouga staggered and fell. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his head. "What... what the...?" He blinked and looked around.

"He's still conscious," Kouryuu remarked aside to Akane and Ranma. "That's very impressive. I've never seen anyone withstand Preston's ultimate Crouching Ram technique like that. In fact, I recall one young fellow who couldn't recall his own name for a good three or four hours. After he woke up, that is."

Preston sauntered up, grinning. "Can't win against me when I'm using my head." He rapped his bokken against the side of his skull. "I've been conditioning it for years. Hardest thing on the planet."

Ranma snorted, but looked duly impressed, if a bit weirded-out.

"Why didn't you use that technique when you were fighting Kunou?" Akane asked.

"I wanted to give him a sporting chance," Preston replied. "Plus I was kinda too pissed to concentrate." He grimaced. "Don't like fighting angry. Ruins the fun."

Kouryuu stepped over to Ryouga and offered him a hand up. "You're a tough one, Hibiki-san. Ever thought about training here with us at the dojo?"

"What?" Ranma blurted. "Him? But you can't- I mean he's just-"

Ranma continued to splutter ineffectually, while Ryouga went momentarily starry-eyed, and looked over at Akane - for morale support? She tried to smile reassuringly, but his eyes just went from starry to glazed-over.

"Me? Train here? With... with..."

"No pressure, of course," Kouryuu reassured him. "Just an invitation. You could help us with endurance training. That way you could be an instructor, and you wouldn't have to pay lesson fees."

"Endurance training?" Ryouga repeated, still looking nonplussed. Maybe the blow to the head had done more damage than it seemed. "So, I'd be an instructor?"

Akane smiled. "Hibiki Ryouga-sensei. How does that sound?"

Ryouga looked at her, and swallowed.

"Not possible!" Ranma burst out. "He'd get lost on the way to classes!"

"I would not!" Ryouga protested. Akane was afraid to vouch for him on that. Ranma had a point.

Kouryuu gave Ranma a questioning look.

"The guy's got _no_ sense of direction!" Ranma said. "He's got a biological compass with no little metal pointer thingy!" He pointed to his palm and made little circular motions, as if indicating a compass that just spun endlessly without ever showing the way.

Kouryuu nodded, as if he'd expected as much, and Akane remembered that Kouryuu and Ryouga had first met when they'd run into each other somewhere in Nerima and made their way back to the Dojo together. Likely Kouryuu had gotten some picture of Ryouga's handicap back then.

"One of the old monks at the monastery told me about a condition that renders a person virtually directionless," Kouryuu said. "He also talked about a way to fix the problem, using pressure points."

Everyone stared at Kouryuu in disbelief - except for Preston, who just looked somewhere between bored and quizzical.

Ranma was the first one to speak up. "Are you saying... you could _cure_ Ryouga's bad sense of direction?"

"Possibly," Kouryuu replied. "But... there could be... side effects, of one kind or another."

Ryouga stared at Kouryuu for a moment. Then he turned away, his face thoughtful. Akane held her breath.

When he turned back, the light of determination had entered Ryouga's eyes. "Do it," he said.

Kouryuu hesitated. "Are you sure about this?"

Ryouga nodded, his gaze falling on Ranma. "I've seen hell already. I doubt anything you could do could be any worse."

Seeming to accept this, Kouryuu approached him. The tall martial artist moved with a confidence that must have reassured Ryouga, because Akane could see him relax visibly as Kouryuu proceeded to poke here and prod there in different places on Ryouga's back, sides, neck, and at the base of his skull, sometimes having him lift his arms or cock his head to one side or the other.

"There," Kouryuu pronounced, taking a step back. "How do you feel, Hibiki-san?"

"... Fine," Ryouga replied, blinking, as if feeling fine were a bit unusual, like something he hadn't been expecting or something he wasn't quite used to.

"Do you feel any different than before."

Ryouga considered, and shook his head. "Not... really."

"What, so it didn't work?" Ranma said.

"Ranma!" Akane hissed at him.

Kouryuu held up a hand to stall any further comment. "Now for the test. Hibiki-san, I would like you to close your eyes and slowly turn to face north, please."

Ryouga closed his eyes. He executed a slow turn, then opened his eyes. "That way."

"But..." Ranma stammered, "that's... that's right!"

Ryouga's face lit up with delight.

"I... I'm cured!"

"Oh, Ryouga-san!" Akane cried, overjoyed for him. She wanted to run up and hug him, but was afraid she'd make him feel uncomfortable.

"Huh," Preston commented, looking only slightly less bored than he had just a moment before.

"Howsabout that!" Ranma grinned, slamming Ryouga on the back. "Congratulations, buddy!"

Laughing for joy, Ryouga gave Ranma a playful punch in the shoulder, bowling him completely over. "It's like a miracle!"

"Wait," Kouryuu's voice broke in on any further celebration. "As I said before, there might be side effects. The test's not over yet."

Ryouga sobered very quickly, and Ranma did likewise, scrambling hastily to his feet. Akane glanced between Ryouga and Kouryuu in worry as Kouryuu approached Ryouga once again.

Kouryuu held up four fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four," Ryouga answered.

"What color is my shirt?" Kouryuu asked, pointing at his shirt.

"Green."

"What's your name?"

"Hibiki Ryouga."

"Which way is up?"

"That way," Ryouga pointed. Then he frowned, gazing up at the sky. "Hey, isn't it a little bright out for this time of night?"

Kouryuu's face fell. "Oh, no."

"Night?" Akane questioned. "Ryouga... it's still afternoon."

"It is?" Ryouga asked, brows furrowed. "But..."

"Hibiki-san," Kouryuu said, regaining Ryouga's attention. "What day is it?"

Ryouga opened his mouth. A puzzled look came over his face. He shut his mouth, then opened it again - then shut it, his expression growing even more puzzled.

Ranma walked up to him, his eyes searching Ryouga's face. He placed his hands on Ryouga's shoulders. "C'mon buddy, you know what day it is, right?"

Ryouga just shook his head.

"What month it is...?"

Ryouga shook his head.

"What season? What _year_?"

Ryouga shook his head again, his face like a ghost's.

Ranma stepped away, his arms falling limply to his sides.

"North...?" Ranma asked hesitantly, his expression nearly matching Ryouga's.

Ryouga paused, then lifted a hand, almost forlornly, to point to the north.

"East?"

Ryouga pointed east.

"His direction sense is fine," Kouryuu interrupted, his own face grim.

"Yeah, but you traded the pointer on his biological compass for the ones on his biological clock!" Ranma burst out. "He's got no sense of time!" He gestured helplessly at Ryouga. "How can he help instruct classes like this? Sure, he won't get lost on the way to classes - but he won't know when the hell to show up!"

Akane swallowed the fear that had gripped her throat. "Maybe... maybe it would be best if you just... put him back the way he was."

Ryouga, still silent as a ghost, turned his gaze on Kouryuu.

Kouryuu had a pained expression on his noble features. "I... can't."

"What?" Akane blurted at the same time that Ranma did.

Kouryuu closed his eyes and put a hand to his face. "The old monk only showed me the one procedure. I can't reverse it."

Ryouga hung his head heavily. "I'm... I'm stuck like this... forever..."

"What about Toufuu-sensei?" Ranma suggested. He glanced at Ryouga. "I bet he'll know what to do."

"He's away at a seminar," Akane said, her voice sounding hollow in her own ears. "In Nagoya. He said he could be gone for weeks..."

A dead silence fell over the group.

"Well, hey, only a week or so, right?" Ranma said, trying to sound cheerful and failing. "Not so bad, eh, Ryouga? That's not such a long... time..." he trailed off into more silence.

"Ranma..." Ryouga raised his head slowly. "This is all _your_ fault!"

Ryouga leapt at Ranma, his fist passing through the space that Ranma's head had occupied an instant earlier as Ranma stepped aside in the nick of time. He grabbed Ryouga's wrist as he went by, and Ryouga tumbled forward into a somersault and rolled to a stop, sitting up on his haunches. Ranma's defense had looked strikingly like Kouryuu's style of combat, and Akane realized that Kouryuu's method of redirecting the force of an enemy's attack would work most effectively against a power-oriented assailant like Ryouga. Ranma had probably picked up on that fact instinctively while sparring with Kouryuu.

Ryouga glared back over his shoulder at Ranma

"Get up and fight," Ranma said, anticipation clear in his voice.

"There's no need to fight," Kouryuu broke in. "Ryouga, I don't know why you're blaming Ranma. This is clearly all my fault."

Ryouga stood, brushing himself off, a bemused expression on his face. "But... it's always been Ranma's fault before."

"Hey!" Ranma protested, stepping forward menacingly.

Kouryuu glanced aside at Ranma. "Well this time it's my fault. Akane-san," Kouryuu said, turning to her. "You and Ranma-san mentioned a doctor you know who might know how to fix Ryouga's... condition. Where is he in Nagoya now? I'll go seek him out immediately."

Akane nodded, her throat dry. "Uhm. Kasumi told me about the seminar. You should ask her."

"Please excuse me," Kouryuu said hastily, and stepped inside, leaving his sandals strewn on the ground.

For a moment, they all just stared at each other, unsure what to do next.

"Well, this has all been fascinating, really," Preston finally said, pulling out a pocket-watch. "But Piku's gotta make an appearance at Ucchan's tonight, so I'll catch you all later, 'kay?"

He glanced up at Ryouga, then back down at the pocket-watch. He walked over and handed the watch to Ryouga. "I think maybe you'd better hang on to that for now."

Ryouga looked down at the watch in his palm. "Um... thanks."

* * *

"I should not think I need remind you, Tendou Nabiki, that missing our meetings these past days does no service to either of us. Indeed, it quite nearly gives solace to our enemy."

_What the hell do you know?_ Nabiki thought irritably as she slid into the booth across from Kunou. She had had plenty of reason to avoid meeting him the past few days. As it was, she'd made sure that this meeting place - a restaurant she'd never been to and never met anyone else at before - was a good two-hour train ride from the dojo.

"New development," she said. "I've been busy trying to patch up a potential hole in our safety-net of counter-rumors and misdirection."

"You mean your web of lies," Kunou corrected. "Whilst I have kept myself occupied by destroying every piece of electronic equipment in my father's possession, as well as sabotaging his wardrobe, for the sake of, as you say, distraction. What 'potential hole' do you speak of?"

"Sabotaging his...?" Nabiki waved it away. "Nevermind. Don't tell me. _Especially_ if it involved superglue."

"Superglue? Ha. You lack imagination, Tendou Nabiki."

Nabiki ignored him. "The potential hole I'm talking about is Preston."

"That wretch again?" Kunou grimaced. "Do not tell me that there is some truth behind the rumors that you and he-"

Nabiki pulled out the blackmail photo and slapped it down on the table in front of Kunou. "He knows about the engagement."

Kunou sank back in his seat, his face thoughtful as he gazed at the picture. "I see. That does... complicate things. But... what would he have to gain by exposing this farcical betrothal that fetters us?" His eyes flicked in Nabiki's direction. "Unless he is indeed infatuated with thee..."

"Not very damn likely," Nabiki replied, returning the photo to it's by-now-customary place in her blouse. "Seems he's got the hots for Ukyou."

Kunou's eyebrow's went up. "That Kuonji girl that Saotome strings along with his fell magicks? Good luck to him if he wishes to break the Sorcerer's spell."

Nabiki sighed. Sometimes she wondered how Kunou could be so reasonable and coherent one moment and then spout such delusional nonsense in the next.

"Anyway," she went on, "I'll handle Preston. He made a... request, in exchange for his silence on the matter. I'll make certain his little plan backfires on him spectacularly."

"What did the knave ask of you, exactly?"

Nabiki made an abstract gesture with one hand. "He... asked me to help two people get together. Two people who really like each other but are afraid to admit it."

Kunou looked duly impressed. "A noble enough cause that - the pursuit of true love's fulfillment. Whom did he ask you to thus aid?"

"Better if I didn't tell you, Kunou-chan."

"Very well, Tendou Nabiki. You may keep your own counsel. But how do you intend to punish the outlander dog for his interference, as you so blithely claimed you will?"

Nabiki smiled. "Leave that to me."

* * *

It was late, but for reasons he couldn't explain, Ranma was wide awake. He wandered the darkened streets of Nerima, his mind awash in thoughts he couldn't even begin to put into words. His mother and her challenge, Akane, Kouryuu's "patterns" - all these things swirled through his head.

Stopping at a corner beneath the glow of a streetlamp, Ranma studied the ground at his feet. Strange how seeing things in a different light could transform them so completely. Just that afternoon he'd stood at this same spot and noted the way the shadows of the buildings fell in crisp and even lines along the street. Now all evidence of that simplicity was gone. Instead, his eyes followed the telltale jagged line of a crack in the asphalt until it forked, and then forked again, spreading out into a myriad of fractal patterns.

_Patterns..._

Ranma knelt down and brushed his fingers along the tiny crack in the pavement. He smiled slightly to himself. Maybe nothing was as simple as it seemed. Maybe everything was actually complex and multifaceted just beneath the surface.

The realization should have been disconcerting, frightening even, but for some reason, Ranma found it strangely comforting.

_Maybe..._ he thought. _Maybe there's more than one way to win._

And Ranma, if he was anything, was determined to win.

End Part V

* * *

Part VI has been outsourced to a room full of monkeys with typewriters, in the hopes of improving the overall quality of the story.


	6. Part VI: Best Laid Plans

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other copyright holders who are not me. All obnoxious original characters in this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

* * *

**Spring of Drowned Dojo**  
_The Life and Times of an Aquatransexual Martial Arts Instructor_

A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions  
written by Ambulatory Kettle

* * *

Part VI: Best Laid Plans

"Everything will go just fine, Konatsu, don't worry. It'll all work out, and we'll make a killing, you'll see."

"Yes, Ukyou-sama."

Ukyou realized that this was probably the third or fourth time she'd said almost those exact same words in the past hour, as she mentally prepared herself for the evening rush at Ucchan's. Since Konatsu seemed hardly concerned, moving amongst the tables taking orders just as he always did, it was pretty clear who Ukyou was really trying to reassure with her words.

Tonight would be the first night that she and Konatsu would be serving alcohol - for those who wanted it and paid appropriately - alongside her regular dishes of okonomiyaki. She'd picked tonight to kick off the new venture because it would give her a whole week of trial before next Saturday, the inevitable big drinking night for everyone who didn't have to work on Sundays. Ukyou planned to start keeping the shop open late on Saturdays to take advantage of this, but tonight few people would be drinking, and she'd be closing at her normal time.

So, why was she so worried? Ukyou found her gaze traveling once again to the doorway, which no one had come through in a good ten or fifteen minutes.

"Are you expecting someone?" a voice asked her.

"No," she replied automatically, and turned to face a dark-haired figure clad in archaic-style clothing with a bokken thrust through his sash.

"I just ask because you keep glancing at the door," Piku said.

Ukyou glared. "What are _you_ doing here, _Preston_?"

His eyes flashed like the blade of a sword suddenly drawn from its sheath. "Don't call me that."

His reaction was so intense and surprising, it took all of Ukyou's discipline to stop herself from taking an involuntary step back. "O- okay, jeez! Piku, then, sorry!"

Piku looked away. "No. No, I'm the one who should apologize. I know it's... difficult to understand... us."

One thing Ukyou could say: Piku was certainly more serious than Preston was.

"At any rate," Piku was saying, his expression becoming less dour, "I'm here because Preston made an agreement with you on my behalf, and I'm not about to back out of it."

Ukyou tried to formulate her protests while she flipped a finished okonomiyaki onto a plate, handing it over to Konatsu as he passed. "But you tricked me! I mean, Preston tricked me. I made that agreement with Preston before I knew that you _are_ - I mean, that you and Preston are... you know..."

"I don't see why that would make any difference," Piku said.

"Because Preston said he'd never see a yen out of this!" Ukyou turned from the griddle, rounding on Piku with okonomiyaki spatulas brandished. "How's that possible if you're, like, the same person?!"

"Easily," Piku replied. "You simply don't pay me anything for my services as a bouncer, and that guarantees Preston will never see a single yen. Oh, and, for the record, we're not really the same person. Well, sort-of-not-really, anyway."

Ukyou just stared at him. "You make no sense."

Piku smirked. "Which one of me?"

"_Both_ of you. Neither of you. Whatever."

Ukyou turned away in exasperation and back to the griddle, trying to ignore him and hoping he'd go away by himself. Piku seemed content to prop up against the wall nearby and watch the restaurant, doing pretty much exactly what he had said - er, what Preston had said he would do: namely, look combat capable and inscrutable.

Ukyou tried to lose herself completely in the task of making okonomiyaki, but it wasn't a busy night so there weren't many to make. Eventually, Piku's silent presence wore on her to the point where she felt compelled to speak. "How'd you even get in here anyway? I didn't see you come in."

"I came in the back way," Piku answered. "Konatsu let me in. I figured it made more sense for me to use the staff entrance."

_Just like him to fake me out like that,_ Ukyou thought. Just like Preston, that is. The underlying connection and similarity between these two outwardly disparate parts of one young man seemed to become more clear the more she saw of him. Either of him.

"Konatsu plays the 'cute waitress' quite well, doesn't he?" Piku commented.

Ukyou glanced up at Konatsu doing his rounds. "Yes, he does. Most of the patrons find it pretty amusing - that is, if they ever figure it out." She looked to Piku curiously. "How could _you_ tell?"

"A swordsman's ability to read people is one of his greatest assets," Piku returned. "I don't slack on honing my perception any more than I would slack on improving my reflexes." He studied Konatsu for a moment longer. "He moves well. He has the walk down almost perfectly, but... not quite. It's almost imperceptible - it would be to most. Preston didn't notice it, when he was here before, but I did." He paused. "Looks like a few others haven't noticed," he said, nodding in the direction of a corner table.

A collection of half a dozen unsavory looking men huddled shoulder to shoulder around the small table, and they watched Konatsu with an unsettling attentiveness as he moved about the restaurant. Ukyou frowned.

"Should I burst their bubble?" Piku asked, smirking.

Well, that was why he was here after all. "You'd better," she said. "Before one of them tries to cop a feel and learns the hard way."

Piku stepped up to the table with purpose in his stride - not a swagger, but a definite air of command. Ukyou couldn't overhear what he said to them, but his bearing was formal and polite and his words seemed to have the desired effect. Some of the men paled and turned their eyes on their drinks, others looked incredulous, but all of them stopped leering. One man gestured for a fresh round of beer, even though they'd hardly touched their first round. Konatsu obliged, but this time the men all kept there gazes fixed on the table in front of them.

Piku returned to his spot and leaned back up against the wall, his expression just shy of smugness and open amusement.

"What did you say to them?" Ukyou asked.

Piku met her gaze. "Wouldn't you like to know."

She frowned at him and turned back to her griddle. "Whatever. I guess it worked. You told them he's a guy?"

"Actually, I told them Konatsu was my little sister," Piku said.

Ukyou stifled a laugh. "Little sister?"

Piku's eyes glinted in shared amusement. "I hope he doesn't mind that I also invented a husband for him. I didn't know how they'd react to the news that he's a cross-dresser, but I was afraid they'd try to... test my words. So I left the illusion in place." Piku paused. "Japan may have Kabuki and the Takarazuka Revue, but outside of those controlled settings, a lot of people don't really care for..." he gestured to Konatsu, "subversion of normal gender roles."

"Damn near everyone," Ukyou replied, thinking of her own experiences. She glanced at Piku. "But it doesn't bother you?"

Piku tilted his head. "Do I look uncomfortable?"

He looked quite as cool and confident as ever - almost annoyingly so. Flying in the face of all sanity and reason, Ukyou actually found herself missing Preston's boisterous smile.

"If anything," Piku went on, "I'm a bit out of place, being the only staff member present who isn't cross-dressing to some degree."

Ukyou snorted. "So, what, you want to go put on a dress?"

Piku broke into a grin, and for an instant he looked so much like Preston that the sight nearly startled Ukyou's breath away. She realized that other than subtle changes in his hair and eyes, Piku's features were almost identical to Preston's. The real difference between them was all in bearing and attitude, and in the perception of the viewer - but those had been enough to foil everyone until the truth had finally come out.

"I think not," Piku replied to her suggestion. "But pose the idea to Preston some time. I'm sure he'd find it a riot."

Shouting broke out.

At the corner table, two of the surly-looking men were up on their feet, yelling at each other. One of the two, a guy with pale skin and a bowl cut, took a swing at the other, a stockier fellow with freckles and fat lips.

Bowl-cut's blow was a wild haymaker; it passed just a hair's breadth from Fat-lips's nose. Fat-lips twisted and staggered back like he'd been struck, tumbling backwards over a small table behind him with a clatter and a crash of crockery as a sake carafe fell to the floor and the young couple who had been sitting at the table scrambled to get out of the way.

Ukyou noted the way that Fat-lips somersaulted backwards and landed uninjured on all fours, dropping to the floor and rolling onto his back to make it look like the fall had hurt.

_What the...?_

Before she could open her mouth, Piku was in between the two men.

"Stop this!" he shouted.

Swearing silently, Ukyou grabbed her battle spatula and leapt over the counter.

Fat-lips got to his feet and dumped the table he'd tumbled over, spilling the rest of its contents onto the floor. Piku looked around, and in the instant his attention was averted, Bowl-cut pulled a doubled-up length of chain from his coat and scourged it across Piku's knuckles. Piku yelped and dropped his bokken.

_Shit._ Ukyou bulled passed Piku and tried to bring her spatula to bear on Bowl-cut, but found she couldn't swing it in the confined space, back to back with Piku, who turned to face Fat-lips.

Bowl-cut's chain wrapped around the handle of her spatula, and he twisted and yanked ruthlessly, trying to disarm her. Ukyou looked at the weapon in her hands, and Ranchan's words rose up out of her memory: _You can't be dependent on these things._

_I'm trusting in you, Ranchan,_ Ukyou thought. She released the spatula - and planted a punch right in Bowl-cut's startled mouth. He went flying back across the corner table and into his comrades, who were still trying to get up and get their own weapons out. One of them, a smaller man with a maniacal slash of a grin on his face, rolled out of the way and snatched up Piku's bokken, turning it on Ukyou. She tightened her fists, trying to banish the helpless feeling that seemed to radiate up her arms from her empty hands. Blood ran down her knuckles, but she wasn't sure if it was hers or Bowl-cut's.

"Konatsu!" Piku shouted from Ukyou's flank. "The teapot! Throw me the teapot!"

Weaponless, Piku gestured frantically to Konatsu across the room. Fat-lips had a knife out, and was menacing Piku with it. Konatsu snatched a ceramic teapot off a nearby table where an elderly couple huddled in fear. He swung it up, and it sailed across the restaurant in a graceful arc. Piku reached up, caught the bamboo handle in one hand, and brought it down hard - right on top of his own head.

The teapot cracked, and hot water poured out over him, changing his hair from black to blonde.

"Ack, that's hot!" Preston staggered into Fat-lips, bringing the broken teapot down on his opponent's knife-hand as he plunged his elbow into the man's stomach. The knife fell to the floor, followed shortly by Fat-lips himself, his eyes bulging out. Preston stomped on the knife blade, breaking it off at the hilt.

Looking up, he flashed a smile at Ukyou. "My kung-fu is _way_ stronger than Piku's!" With that, he tumbled past her, bowling over the little man still wielding his - Piku's? - bokken. Then he set upon one of the men who had worked his way out from under Bowl-cut.

The smaller thug was scrambling frantically to get the dropped bokken back and get to his feet at the same time. But Ukyou was faster. Gripping the point of the bokken between the toes of her tabi, Ukyou flipped the weapon up into her open hand and clocked the man over the head with it, knocking him senseless.

Bowl-cut and one of his compatriots were suddenly pinned to the wall by shurikens. Before Konatsu could loose another volley, a big, shaved-headed man managed to get out from behind the table and came at Ukyou with a cudgel in his hand. She dodged right and kicked him hard in the groin. He went down with a loud thump. She clocked him on the head with the bokken too, just in case.

Ukyou looked up, and realized that all of the men were either groaning on the floor, unconscious, or otherwise incapacitated. A smattering of awed and relieved applause rang out across the small restaurant. Ukyou tried not to smile in embarrassment, and hoped she wasn't blushing.

"Whew," said Preston, making no attempt to hide his smile as he breathed a little heavily from the exhilaration.

Braced against the ceiling in the corner above Bowl-cut and his unhappy companion, Konatsu did blush at the applause, but said nothing. Bowl-cut made the mistake of craning his head back to look up Konatsu's kimono. Bowl-cut's already pale face turned white, then green.

"Why'd you jump in like that?" Ukyou berated Preston. "Or- why did Piku- you know what I mean. You- Piku shouldn't have rushed in like that! It was a staged brawl." She surveyed the bravos strewn about. "Or it was supposed to be."

"I know," Preston said. "Piku saw that guy take a fall-" he jerked his chin at the prone Fat-lips. "Would you rather we just let them trash the place?"

Ukyou bent down and retrieved her battle-spatula, carefully unwrapping the chain from around it. She turned her eyes menacingly on bowl-cut. He went from green to a shade of gray that Ukyou had never seen on a person's face before.

"It looks like we need some questions answered," she said. "Think we should ask nicely?"

Konatsu's eyes flashed.

Preston made a face and shook his head. "Nah."

* * *

Nabiki awoke. It was dark and calm and quiet in her room, with moonlight streaming in through the window, but somehow, she got the distinct feeling that something was wrong. She sat up.

In the corner by the door, the moonlight illuminated the form of someone sitting with their back against the wall.

It was Preston. A large bruise stood out under his left eye, and his right arm propped across his knee dangled his torn knuckles in full view. Immediately, Nabiki knew what had happened.

"Hello, Nabiki," Preston said.

"What are you doing here!" she demanded in a hiss.

Preston smirked from the darkness. "I live here, remember?"

"No, you don't. Get out of my room now, or I'll scream."

"And then what?" Preston challenged. "I can guess who would arrive first. If I tell Ranma what you tried to do to Ukyou's shop, whose side do you think he's gonna take?"

Nabiki studied the infinitely impudent foreigner. "What if Akane gets here first?"

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," he said. "At best, it's fifty-fifty. Do you like those odds?"

Nabiki glared at him as she had never glared at him before. She wished with all her being that it wasn't so dim so that he could really see her face.

"You can't pull this shit here," Nabiki told him, her words quiet but fierce. "I don't know what the fuck they taught you in freak-land, but in Japan, sneaking into a girl's room is _never_ okay. Our country, our rules. Why can't you get that through your thick gaijin skull!?"

Preston's eyes glinted, reflecting the moonlight as he raised his head. "I think you've misunderstood me. You all have. When you've moved around the globe as much as I have, you get pretty used to not fitting in. So the reason I don't play by the rules here has nothing to do with not being Japanese. 'Cause I don't play by the rules _anywhere_."

"Besides," a familiar voice broke in. "It's not like he came here alone."

Nabiki's head snapped around. Propped up against the wall on the far side of the window where the moonlight didn't reach, Ukyou stood wrapped in shadow. She pushed herself away from the wall and stepped into the light; her face was unreadable.

"You owe me money," Nabiki extemporized. "What did you expect, that I'd just let it slide?"

"Nice try." Ukyou's humorless smile was almost sympathetic. Almost. "Preston-kun told me all about your little plot to get Ranchan and Akane together. Very mercenary, even for you, after the way you helped me out.

"And what made you think that busting up my shop would do you any good, anyway? If your plan had worked, Ranchan would have been too busy helping me to pay any attention to Akane." Ukyou's expression was smug in this knowledge, and she added snidely, "Who's the first one to come running when somebody screams?"

Nabiki cursed herself. She hadn't thought about that. She had been too busy trying to get back at Preston, she'd lost sight of an important variable. "Did Preston-kun also tell you that getting Akane and Ranma-kun together was all _his_ idea?" Nabiki snapped indignantly.

"Oh, yes. How do you think he got that bruise on his face?"

Nabiki looked at Preston.

Preston didn't say anything, just gazed at the patterns of leaves and moonlight on the carpet. After a moment, he shifted and reached his banged-up hand into a pocket of his coat, pulling something out and tossing it out onto the floor, to land in the center of the pool of moonlight. It was a stack of hundred-thousand-yen bills, Nabiki saw, bound neatly with a rubber band.

"That's for your trouble," Preston said grudgingly. "I won't ask anything else from you."

Nabiki stared at the stack of bills. She estimated it as a very large sum. A peace offering? She eyed Preston warily. "What about your threat?"

Preston looked as close to "sulky" as Nabiki had ever seen him. "I withdraw it," he bit out with obvious reluctance. "You win."

_Of course I do,_ Nabiki thought, though she felt about as shaken as she did smug right now. But she had won, if not in exactly the way she had planned or expected. Nabiki knew that Preston's soft-spot for Ukyou was an obvious weak spot as well - that's why she had struck at it. Apparently Ukyou was using that point of leverage to her own advantage now. Nabiki supposed she had gotten well-practiced at that sort of thing, ordering Konatsu about like she always did.

"That means," said Ukyou pointedly, "that you drop this crap about trying to fix up Ranchan and Akane together. It's none of your damn business. Don't get involved. It's between me and Akane." She added, as if in afterthought, "And Ranchan."

Nabiki considered agreeing, putting up a false front, but her outrage at Ukyou's gall won over. "Don't try to intimidate me, Ukyou. You should know better than that."

"What are you saying?" Ukyou growled.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Ranma-kun is my cash cow, now more than ever. If you think I'll let you or anyone else take him away from the dojo-"

"Do you think I'M stupid, Nabiki?" Ukyou overrode her. "I've seen Ranchan training his students. I know how much it means to him. If I tried to take that away from him, I wouldn't deserve to keep him."

_Not good enough,_ Nabiki thought. What was to stop Ukyou from taking Ranma away to teach in some other dojo - a dojo without Akane, without any rivals for Ranma's affection? Nabiki didn't want assertions, she wanted guarantees. The best way to secure this line of income for her family, she knew, was to marry it to the family.

Nabiki smiled dryly. "It's out of my hands now," she said. "The plan's been set in motion. Even I couldn't stop it now. Not that I'm going to try." Quite the reverse, in fact.

Ukyou bent down to stare into Nabiki's eyes. "Do your worst."

Nabiki was not about to blink or flinch away from that steady, determined gaze. "When it comes to making money," she said, "I'm afraid I always do my best."

Ukyou straightened. She gave a single nod, as if acknowledging that the contest of wills had begun. Turning, she headed for the door, kicking Preston none-too-gently as she passed, signaling him to get up and shove off. She paused at the door, waiting as Preston opened it and slipped out into the dark hallway.

"It's a shame, really, Nabiki," Ukyou said over her shoulder. "We were getting along so well, you and me."

With that, she left, and Nabiki was free to collapse back in her bed in relief. But only after she had collected and counted the money Preston had left, and locked it safely away in her desk.

* * *

She might not have succeeded in getting Ukyou out of the picture, but Nabiki was unfazed, and her gate didn't falter as she made her way to the Nekohanten. It had been several days since her midnight confrontation with Ukyou, and so far the girl had made no attempt to retaliate, no doubt expecting Nabiki to make the first move. But Nabiki knew when to cut her losses and get on with the next task. As it was, her assets were none the worse for wear from the endeavor, after the unexpected windfall of Preston's "peace offering." She would regroup and wait to make her next move in that arena when Ukyou had grown complacent and let down her guard. In the meantime, Nabiki could handle all the other little items on her agenda.

"You're sure you understand your part in this, Auntie?" Nabiki asked as they approached the restaurant.

"Oh, yes, Nabiki-chan," Auntie Saotome answered. There was a look of relish in her eyes, narrowing at the sight of their destination. "You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm still unsure what _my_ part in this whole thing is supposed to be, Tendou Nabiki-san," Kouryuu broke in. "I really must be on my way to Nagoya to find this Toufuu-sensei. I would have left by now if you hadn't insisted -"

"All in good time, Kouryuu-san," Nabiki interrupted. "We had to get the Dojo instruction schedule in order and make sure that Daddy and Uncle Saotome were up to the task of filling in for you during your absence."

That had eaten up the past few afternoons, and Nabiki still didn't have complete confidence that her father and his responsibility-dodging companion would come through for them. But she was prepared do everything in her power to make sure they stood by their word, since Kouryuu seemed dead set on running off to find Toufuu. Nabiki had hoped that Ryouga might be of some use, but, not only was he completely un- tested as an instructor, all he'd seemed inclined to do was mope about the dojo in a towering funk, repeatedly asking what day it was.

"And then of course there is the matter at hand which needs your... particular attention," Nabiki mentioned.

"What exactly _is_ the matter at hand?" Kouryuu asked, sounding frustrated and out of sorts.

Nabiki smiled. "That will become clear very shortly. Just be your usual self, answer the questions I pose to you, and everything should run smoothly. Then I can give you your reward for this assistance and you can be on your way."

Kouryuu looked hardly pleased, but resigned to the task before him. "Very well," he agreed. He obviously had no desire to put himself in the company of Chinese Amazons if he could avoid it.

As they entered the cafe, a bell chimed into the empty establishment. Nabiki had left school early that day, skipping class just to ensure that their visit coincided with the deadest hour of the afternoon, free of the distractions of other customers.

"Welcome!" Mousse's voice came from the back room, followed shortly by the young man himself - just the fellow Nabiki had come to see. Nabiki was silently grateful that Shampoo and Cologne didn't seem to be around, as she guessed they might not be at this hour. They would have complicated things and interfered in the smooth running of Nabiki's plan.

Mousse was carrying a mop, obviously intent on taking advantage of the lull. And for once, he was actually wearing his glasses; when he saw Nabiki and Auntie Saotome he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening, then narrowing as they fixed on the imposing figure of Kouryuu.

His gaze flicked warily back to Nabiki. "What do you want?"

Nabiki made a mockingly innocent moue at Mousse's cold greeting. "Now, what sort of a welcome is that? I only came here to help YOU after all."

"Help _me_?" Mousse asked, clearly baffled by the notion that anyone, let alone Nabiki, would actually want to help him.

"Yes," Nabiki confirmed. "You. I know you're always looking for ways to improve your martial arts, to prove yourself worthy of Shampoo." Nabiki paused just long enough for effect but not quite long enough to give Mousse a chance to respond. "Why don't you come train at the Tendou Dojo? Free of charge, of course."

Mousse sneered. "Train under Saotome? I'd rather die."

_That can be arranged,_ Nabiki thought, but reined in her temper. The hook was out; now all that was left was to convince him to take the bait.

"Kouryuu," she said, the sudden unexpectedness of her utterance causing the tall martial artist to start slightly.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Would you be willing to train Mousse?"

_"Him?"_ Mousse blurted.

Nabiki waved a hand at Mousse to shush him. "Well, would you?"

Kouryuu sized Mousse up while the young Chinese Amazon glared back defiantly in a way that made him look not unlike a cornered animal. Nabiki knew that the two had faced-off briefly at least once before, so each had a fair impression of the others abilities.

"I would be willing to train him, yes," Kouryuu responded. His gaze seemed to spell more than willingness though; perhaps not eagerness, but at least an interest in the prospect.

Nabiki turned back to Mousse. "What do you say?"

Mousse seemed almost as if he were on the brink of some fight-or- flight response: gripping the mop in both hands, his gaze sweeping back and forth across them, hesitant, confused, possibly even frightened, but still defiant.

The creak and slam of the rear door of the restaurant broke the moment of tension. It was followed by the sound of voices chatting in Mandarin.

_Damn,_ Nabiki thought. She glanced at Auntie Saotome, who had stood waiting patiently with her arms tucked into her kimono sleeves. The woman pursed her lips and nodded understanding. This was her contingency cue.

"Think quickly," Nabiki prompted Mousse. "Now's the time to make your own decision, before someone else interferes."

The implication of Nabiki's words seemed to strike home, but Mousse just met her gaze silently, chewing his lip. Torn? Or merely reluctant to make such a decision on his own?

Cologne came out of the kitchen into the lobby. "What's this? What's going on here?" the old woman asked when she spotted Nabiki.

"The middle Tendou sister has offered to let me train at the Tendou Dojo," Mousse stated flatly without turning around.

_Double damn._

"Well don't do it," Cologne was saying. "It's bound to be a trick of some kind."

"Cologne," Nabiki interjected, "There's someone I'd like you to meet..."

Auntie Saotome stepped forward.

But the old crone wasn't listening. She was staring straight at Kouryuu.

_"You!"_ The utterance escaped her as if all her breath had shot out her mouth at once.

_Triple damn._

Of course. Why shouldn't Cologne recognize Kouryuu? Akane and Ranma had relayed the story of Kouryuu's historic troublemaking at Jouketsuzoku, and, if the account was true, then the old hag had probably sat in on the trial and sentencing herself. But Nabiki had assumed that their animated description had been youthful exaggeration. Kouryuu, level-headed, borderline pacifistic Kouryuu, couldn't possibly have done anything so obscenely, outrageously stupid as attack an entire patrol of Amazons, right?

Nabiki sighed, and wondered at the wisdom of employing a suicidal maniac at the Dojo.

Kouryuu bowed, somewhat stiffly, his face unreadable. "We meet again, Honored Elder."

"You are not welcome on these premises," the old woman snapped at him. She turned her gaze on Nabiki. "Why have you brought this... this Arrogant Dragon here?"

Nabiki put on her sweetest smile. "Oh, you already know each other? How nice. Well, then allow me to introduce you to someone you may not be as familiar with. Cologne, this is Saotome Nodoka - Ranma's _Mother_."

Cologne glanced warily at Nabiki as Auntie Saotome stepped forward, but managed to paint a more pleasant look on her face to greet the woman who's son she sought to marry into her clan. Auntie Saotome and the old crone had crossed paths briefly at Ranma and Akane's failed wedding, but they had never spoken to each other before now.

"It is... a great honor and a pleasure to finally meet you properly, sister-in-law," Cologne intoned politely, but with obvious anxiety.

"You're no sister of mine," Auntie Saotome returned coldly.

Cologne's expression froze on her craggy face. "I must assure you that your son truly is engaged to marry my Shampoo," she said, her manner becoming almost simpering in her intent to appease. "Chinese Amazon law states that-"

"I don't care what your law states," Auntie Saotome interrupted. "My son has been slated to marry a daughter of the Tendou household since before he was born. It's a pre-existing arrangement, and it trumps anything your laws have to say. _Especially_ on Japanese soil." Auntie stomped her sandaled foot lightly on the floor for emphasis.

Cologne glanced down at the gesture of determination, then back up, her expression grim. "I'm afraid you are mistaken."

"I am not mistaken," Auntie Saotome replied with a winning combination of defiance and poise. "He's _my_ son. I don't think your stupid laws should have more of a say in who he marries than I do."

"And there is also the little matter of Kouryuu here having knocked Shampoo unconscious just the other day," Nabiki added helpfully.

_"What?!" Cologne cried. _

Kouryuu blanched, but said nothing.

"What going on? Why great-grandma shouting?" As if on cue, Shampoo appeared in the doorway to the kitchen - and glared. "What stupid man doing here?"

"Is this true, Shampoo?" Cologne demanded. "Did this man defeat you in single combat?"

"Stupid man used trickery!" Shampoo snarled, stepping forward angrily. "He sneak up behind Shampoo while Shampoo was fighting bossy girl!"

"I fail to see how that differs from how Ranma-kun 'defeated' you," Nabiki opined blandly.

Shampoo's face fell, and Cologne glanced at her questioningly.

Mousse's grip on the mop had grown so tight that his knuckles were white. "So it _was_ you."

"Ahm," Kouryuu began, "well, she was attacking E- Sakai-san, and I-"

"Come now, Kouryuu-san," Nabiki prompted, eyeing him pointedly. "_did_ you knock her unconscious?"

Kouryuu took a breath. "Yes."

"Lies, lies, lies!" Shampoo seethed, her eyes flashing.

Mousse bared his teeth. "You bastard!"

Leaping atop the counter, Cologne drew herself up to her full diminutive height, indignation burning in her eyes.

"You _dare_," she hissed. "You _dare_ to break the ancient treaty _again_, Jiaolong!" Her voice gradually grew into a cracking, ragged roar. "Does your insolence have no bounds!?"

"I broke no treaty this time, Honored Elder," Kouryuu replied evenly. "Your clan made sure that I was cast out of the order. I am not bound by any treaty with your people any more."

The ire in Cologne's glare was beyond extreme. "The decision the elders made five years ago still stands. You will never marry a woman of Jouketsuzoku. You will never marry my great-granddaughter!"

_"Never!"_ Shampoo seconded vehemently.

_"Never-Ow!"_ Mousse staggered as Shampoo clocked him in the jaw.

"Shut up, Mousse! You not having any say in who Shampoo not marry!"

"I thank you," Kouryuu replied sincerely to their assertions. "I have absolutely no desire to marry your great-granddaughter."

Cologne blinked, clearly expecting more resistance. "You don't?"

"Not in the slightest, I assure you."

"But... why not? She's beautiful and strong. What man wouldn't want to marry her?"

"Great-grandma!" Shampoo protested.

"This man, I'm afraid," Kouryuu said.

"Well, too bad, because you can't marry her!"

"I just said I don't want to marry her."

Nabiki decided it was time to step in.

"I think you'll soon find that all of this is just a small drop in a much larger bucket," she announced.

All eyes turned to her.

"Speaking of Japanese soil," Nabiki continued with a nod to Auntie Saotome before turning back to Cologne. "There is the small matter of your residence in this country..."

Cologne glared certain death at Nabiki, who just smiled back at her.

"The warriors of Jouketsuzoku go where they will."

"Not in this day and age you don't."

"Don't you threaten me, girl!"

"Who, me?" Nabiki asked innocently. "I'm just here to give you a friendly reminder that the power to bounce you back to China is just a phone call away. However... since I'm well aware that that could prove unnecessarily messy, I am willing to strike a bargain with you that would allow you to stay in the country."

Cologne had to visibly unset her teeth to respond. "What could you possibly gain by helping us stay here?"

Nabiki smiled. "Why, the pleasure of your wonderful company of course." She sobered. "Besides, the way I see it, you have little choice in the matter. You can either cooperate with me and stay, or start packing your bags."

The old crone let out a long, rage-filled sigh. "What do you want?"

Nabiki summoned her sweet smile again. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it? The deal is really quite simple. We, the Tendou Dojo, sign on Mousse as a foreign exchange student of sorts - part of some trumped-up 'martial artists without borders' thing, I'll handle the details so that it all looks quite legit. In return, you can all stay here quite comfortably and legally. I'll even waive the normal enrollment fees as a sign of good faith."

Cologne stood for a moment digesting this, clearly trying to puzzle out what Nabiki was up to. "Why Mousse?" she asked. "He's useless as a martial artist. Why not Shampoo?"

"That's my offer," Nabiki replied. "Take it or leave - although, it's really up to Mousse." Her gaze fell on Mousse again. "So? What do you say?"

"No!" Shampoo cried. "Mousse not fall for you tricks."

Cologne was oddly silent, though grim, clearly seeing that there were unwanted implications to a decision in either direction.

Mousse pointed his mop at Kouryuu. "You want me to train under _that_ man? He attacked Shampoo!"

"Wouldn't a _real_ martial artist set aside that kind of concern in pursuit of perfecting his abilities?" Nabiki proposed.

Mousse eyed her awhile, but said nothing. Slowly, he approached Kouryuu, mop still in hand. For a moment, he stood in silence before the taller man. Then suddenly, he lashed out with the handle of the mop. Kouryuu caught it deftly in both hands and spun it back on Mousse, wielding it like a bo staff. The wet mop head slapped across Mousse's face, knocking his glasses askew, then swept down and knocked his feet out from under him. Before he could leap back up, Kouryuu had the end of the handle against the hapless young man's throat.

Everything was still. Then Kouryuu withdrew the mop handle, and offered Mousse a hand up. Mousse got to his feet without any help, glaring at Kouryuu, who handed back the mop.

Mousse snatched the proffered mop away, and turned back to Shampoo and Cologne. But then he paused. Nabiki didn't dare breathe.

The young man looked down at the mop in his hand as if seeing it for the first time. His jaw tightened. Throwing the mop against the ground so hard it nearly splintered, he spun back around to face Kouryuu.

Then he fell to his knees.

"What stupid Mousse doing!"

Mousse bent forward and prostrated himself, placing his forehead against the floor. "Sensei," he said, raising his head slightly to look up at Kouryuu with earnestness written on his face. "Please show me the way of the Arrogant Dragon!"

Inside herself, Nabiki laughed with triumph.

_"No!"_ Shampoo's howl echoed through the empty restaurant. Cologne just looked tired, and even older than usual, her face ashen with a sort of sickened resignation.

Kouryuu, taken a little aback, cleared his throat. "Ahem. Certainly. But my style is actually called the Hidden Fist."

Mousse stared at Kouryuu's sandals for a moment. "Oh."

"You won't get away with this, girl," Cologne said quietly, leveling her gaze at Nabiki.

"On the contrary," Nabiki rejoindered smilingly. "I already have."

Still, Nabiki couldn't help but feel a little chilled by the look in the old Amazon's eyes.

* * *

When they'd stepped outside with Mousse in tow, leaving Shampoo and Cologne to recover from the encounter, Kouryuu turned to Nabiki. "I don't mean to press you, but I really must be off to Nagoya now."

"Of course," Nabiki smiled obligingly, and placed a rectangular stack of paper in his palm. "Your payment."

Kouryuu nodded his thanks. "Ah, this is just what I needed," he said, unfolding the topmost map as he tucked the others in his wide coat sleeve. He frowned at the unfurled paper. "Where are we exactly?"

Pulling back a corner of the map, Nabiki reached across and pointed. "We're right about here. The closest train station is just over here," she traced her finger along the map.

"Train station?" Kouryuu asked.

"Yes," Nabiki replied. "The maps I gave you are maps of the train lines between here and Nagoya. How else were you expecting to get there? Walk?"

"Well, actually... yes," Kouryuu confessed, a bit sheepish.

"Aha! Endurance training!" Mousse piped in.

Nabiki ignored him. "For poor Ryouga-kun's sake, I'd suggest you ride the train." She tapped the location of the train station on the map. "MUCH faster that way."

"Hmm. Ride the train," Kouryuu echoed thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right." He folded the map into a somewhat haphazard square and stuffed it into his sleeve with the others. "Well, at any rate, I'd better be off." He bowed. "Farewell, and thank you for the maps. I'm in your debt."

Nabiki grinned. "You and everyone else."

"Have a safe trip," Auntie Saotome said. "I hope you don't have too much trouble finding Toufuu-sensei."

"I'll certainly try my best," Kouryuu replied, bowing to her as well. Then he turned to make his way down the street in the direction of the station, Mousse following along eagerly at his side.

"What sort of training will we be doing in Nagoya, Sensei?" Mousse asked, having apparently missed - or ignored - the comment about searching for Toufuu.

"None. I need to find a doctor there. He's supposed to be an expert in acupressure."

"Ah. I see. And what sort of techniques do we hope to glean from the meeting? Are we going to fight him, or just consult him for his keen knowledge of the martial arts?"

At this distance, Nabiki sensed more than heard Kouryuu's long, drawn-out sigh.

"Well, that worked out quite well, don't you think?" Nabiki remarked pleasantly.

Auntie Saotome smiled slightly as they watched the retreating figures. "Indeed."

* * *

"Akane-chan, there's a package here for you. It's from -"

Akane hastily pulled the box out of Kasumi's hands before she could read the label. "Thanks, Sis, I'll take that."

"Akane-chan! Don't snatch, it's rude."

Turning to shelter the package from view, Akane eyed Kasumi in annoyance. _Don't give me that mother routine._

"I said thanks," Akane quipped, and headed off up the stairs to her room.

Pulling the door closed behind her, Akane set upon the box, tearing tape away and pulling the top open to gaze inside with giddy anticipation.

This was it. This was her ticket to get Ranma to respect her as a martial artist. She'd struck upon the idea awhile back when discussing the problem with Emi. Now, to reveal the plan to her friend. Akane sincerely hoped Emi wouldn't think she was going overboard - but then, Akane had her own doubts about the sanity of the scheme.

_Well, I'm not about to turn back now._

Gathering some clothes she'd secreted away in her closet, she stuffed them into the top of the box, obscuring the contents beneath, and shut it. Hands on the cardboard edges of the package, Akane could feel herself shaking ever-so-slightly from nerves and exhilaration.

_Just you wait, Ranma,_ she thought. _Just you wait._

* * *

Ranma was tired of waiting. He stretched in the sunlight of the Tendou yard on this oddly warm autumn afternoon. He felt like waiting was all he'd been doing lately; just waiting around for closure to a challenge that was effectively endless and, as far as he was concerned, unfair and damn near impossible. He needed to confront his mother again about putting a time limit on the thing, or take some other action to help push it towards a resolution. Ranma was not a man built for patience, this much he knew.

_Lessons will be starting soon,_ he reminded himself. And with Kouryuu off looking for Toufuu, Ranma would be leading class today. Hopefully that would take his mind off this farcical challenge.

He heard someone whistling as they came through the front gate, and wandered around to the front of the house to see if it was one of his students arriving early.

Rather than one of his students, Ranma's eyes were greeted by the sight of Preston coming down the walkway, bokken casually slung over one shoulder. He had a bruise under one eye, but looked cheerful.

"Hey, Preston," Ranma hailed him. "Haven't seen you around much recently."

"Hey," Preston returned, coming up to stand face to face with Ranma. "Yeah, I've been crashing at Ukyou's place the past few nights - since Sunday, actually."

Ranma was struck dumb for a moment. Then he felt himself break into a smile. "Well, you dog!" he laughed, reaching out to grip Preston's hand.

Preston smirked, but pulled his hand away. "It's not like that," he explained. "Believe me, I wish it was. I had to share a futon with Konatsu - and he has really cold feet."

Their attention was drawn elsewhere as the front door opened and Akane stepped briskly out, carrying a cardboard box wedged under one arm.

"Hey, Akane," Ranma said as she walked passed, apparently too intent on her own business to pay them much mind. "What's in the box?"

The look she sent him didn't invite further inquiry. "None of your business."

"Hey, okay, just askin', jeez!"

Akane turned her head away with a "hmph!" and kept walking.

It looked like Akane was in a confrontational mood, but Ranma wasn't about to rise to the bait. If winning meant getting along with Akane, then that's what he'd have to do.

As Akane was walking out, mom and Nabiki appeared at the gate.

"Where are you off to, Akane-chan?" mother asked.

"To visit Emi, er, I mean Sakai-sensei," Akane answered back over her shoulder. "I should be back before dinner."

_What about training?_ Ranma wanted to call after her. Was Akane just going to skip out today? And, if so, did that mean Emi wouldn't be showing up either? The latter at least would be a good thing. Not that the first one was bad; he couldn't care less what Akane did. No, sir.

Mom and Nabiki approached them.

"Yo," Preston said with his usual inappropriate air of casualness.

"Nabiki," Ranma greeted her neutrally. He looked away. "Hi, mom."

"Hello, Ranma," his mother replied, her voice sounding oddly hollow.

Ranma clenched his teeth. _This_ was what was really bothering him. This whole "challenge" nonsense, along with his explosion the other day, had put him on awkward terms with his mother. Implied threats of seppuku notwithstanding, his relationship with his mother had been pretty good up until now, unlike his relationship with Akane. Not that he had a _relationship_ with Akane or anything. Not like _that_.

"Well, I'm sure I'll see you all again at dinner," mother said, and turned to trudge off in the direction of what Ranma had come to think of increasingly as _her_ house. He hadn't been back in there since their recent argument.

Nabiki seemed to be ignoring the moment of tension as much as Ranma was trying to, looking back out the gate in the direction Akane had gone.

"So, Ranma-kun... it doesn't worry you that Akane's been spending so much time with Sakai-sensei?"

"No," Ranma shot back, irritated. "Why should I care what Akane does?"

"It doesn't bother you at all that she's hanging out with someone else so much? Someone who she seems to have a lot in common with, and seems to get along with really well?"

"Well why shouldn't they get along?" Ranma replied. "They're both man-hating macho chicks after all."

"Right," Nabiki agreed. "They're too young women who don't like men. And they seem to be pretty close. That doesn't... concern you?"

Ranma gave her a puzzled look. "What're you saying?"

"She's saying that she thinks they might be getting all lezzie with each other and stuff," Preston broke in.

"What?!" Ranma cried.

"You know, like lesbians. What, do I have to describe it for you?"

Nabiki glared at Preston. "Can you ever keep your mouth shut?"

Ranma stumbled over his words, staring dumbfounded at Nabiki. "Why... why would you think...?"

"Just ignore her," Preston assured him, putting a comradely arm around Ranma's shoulder. "She's just trying to make you jealous with all her... innuendo." He wiggled the fingers of his other hand in her direction in a gesture that bespoke of creepy, weird magicks.

"Why?" was all Ranma could manage.

"Why is she trying to make you jealous?" Preston shrugged, and grinned. "Who knows? Maybe she thinks that if you feel like you've got competition it'll make you stand up for your engagement to Akane. I have to say, Nabiki, I don't like your tactics."

Nabiki seemed to grow more and more irate with every word out of Preston's mouth.

Ranma couldn't see where the foreigner was getting these crazy ideas. "Why the heck would she want to do that?"

Preston met Nabiki's gaze, still grinning widely. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe she-"

"Preston-kun," Nabiki interrupted forcefully. Her tone was remarkably even; she seemed to be exercising a great deal of restraint, as even Ranma could see that Preston had raised her ire beyond any point Ranma would have ever cared to.

"Yes, my spider queen?" Preston responded, taking his arm from around Ranma's shoulder and sweeping Nabiki a low bow.

Nabiki didn't so much as flinch at the open mockery. "Follow me to the kendo dojo. Kunou-chan has some business with you."

"As you wish, your majesty."

Perplexed, Ranma watched them walk off in the direction of the Kendo Dojo. He gave a mental shrug, and fell in step. _Not like I've got anything better to do till my students get here._

Inside the dojo, Kunou was sitting cross-legged at a low table with an old-fashioned brush and ink block ready at one elbow. The calligraphy set was hardly an unusual sight where Kunou was involved, but what a table was doing there in the middle of a kendo training hall, Ranma couldn't guess.

"Have a seat," Nabiki said to Preston, gesturing to a place across the table from Kunou as she sat herself down at one end. Preston obliged with uncharacteristic silence and good grace. Ranma lingered by the doorway and propped himself up against the wall, curious as to what was going on, but not wanting to get mixed up in it.

"So what's this about?" Preston asked Kunou. "You wanna fight again?"

Kunou shook his head disparagingly. "Nothing so drastic. Even a master kendoist such as myself must now and again acknowledge that there are other ways to resolve disagreement. Truly, the sword should be the weapon of last resort, when more civilized tacks fail - which I find happens quite often."

"Huh," Preston said, sounding a bit nonplussed. "And here I thought that the knee-to-the-groin was the weapon of last resort."

Ranma stifled a snicker.

Kunou lifted his hands above the table, revealing that he had been holding a piece of paper just out of view. He placed it down on the smooth wooden surface in front of Preston.

"The weapon I choose now is the pen. So. Place thy vulgar Western scrawl above the demarcation and our feud is at an end."

"What's this?" Preston squinted down at the paper. "A contract?"

"Just so," came Kunou's reply.

"It states the terms of your mutual share in the kendo dojo and in leading classes here," Nabiki explained.

Ranma glanced over at Nabiki, wondering what she might be up to, but as usual she was the picture of inscrutable poise.

"Looks like lots of overblown legal jargon to me," Preston commented, running a finger along the text as he scanned the page. "I'll have to consult my legal counsel."

With that, he stood, bowed, and left the dojo, flashing a grin at Ranma as he passed.

Clearly perturbed, Kunou looked at Nabiki. "What's the fool up to now?"

As Nabiki got up to investigate, looking equally annoyed, Ranma faintly heard a sound of splashing water. Presently, Piku strode in, nearly running smack into Nabiki trying to go out.

"Oh, were you just leaving?" Piku stepped aside and gestured her welcome on her way before stepping up to the table and seating himself where he - or rather, Preston - had been sitting only a moment before.

Nabiki took her own seat at the table again. "What the heck are you doing?"

"Reading the contract," Piku said. "I assure you that Preston has given me full permission to inspect this and sign on his behalf."

"Because you _are_ Preston!" Nabiki retorted.

Piku waved an admonishing finger, but said only, "Think what you will."

"Well?" Nabiki prompted after he'd been silent for a time. "You can't have possibly gained some new insight just by dousing yourself with water. Sign it already!"

"Certainly," Piku replied obligingly. Lifting the brush, he made a series of deft strokes along the bottom of the page, his hand holding the brush like an expert calligrapher.

Looking very pleased, Kunou picked up the paper and turned it around to survey the signature - and frowned.

"What's wrong? Didn't he sign it?" Nabiki asked, coming around to look over Kunou's shoulder.

Kunou began to read aloud:

"An old pond;  
"A frog jumps in -  
"Go fuck yourself."

Ranma couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing.

Nabiki sent a glare his way as Kunou slammed the paper down on the table.

"What is this rot?!" he demanded.

"It's a haiku." Piku smirked. "All apologies to Basho-sensei."

"You call this drivel _poetry_?" Kunou roared.

"That's not important!" Nabiki snapped at Kunou, then rounded on Piku. "What the hell is wrong with you, Pres-Pi- whoever you are?!"

Piku's smirk spread into a small smile. "Preston didn't know what to make of your legal babble, since his grasp of kanji is a little less than perfect. But it was all pretty clear to me. Signing that contract would mean he'd give up all claims on his share of the property and hand over everything to Kunou. Oh, and that he's obliged to leave this property and the Tendou's property and never come back."

"Damn you!" Nabiki seethed.

"It's nothing personal," Piku assured her. "I mean, either Preston or I likely would have gladly signed the contract - well, besides the whole banishment from the premises thing - but I'm afraid that as of yesterday, Preston no longer owns any part of this property or the house on it."

_"What?"_

"Knave! How dare you sell the property out from under us!"

Piku made calming motions with both hands. "Preston signed over his portion to Saotome Nodoka-san, to avoid any legal entanglements from the fact that he's a foreign exchange student and not actually a Japanese citizen. Which means neither am I, come to think of it." Piku seemed to consider this for a moment. "Strange, that."

Nabiki seemed to be cooling down a bit. "Why didn't I hear about this earlier? Auntie Saotome didn't mention anything."

"Oh, that's because she doesn't know yet. It was going to be a surprise."

"A surprise..." Nabiki repeated wearily. She straightened up, and Kunou rose to his feet beside her.

"I still want your things moved out of the Tendou attic," Nabiki said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"That was the plan," Piku replied as he followed suit and stood, smoothing down the front of his slightly damp kendo gi. "Preston and I will be relocating ourself post-haste. Preston likes it here, but frankly you're all a bit too crazy for my tastes."

"_You're_ the crazy one!" Nabiki retorted.

"Please," Piku said, almost seeming to laugh off the accusation. "Preston may go around a bit half-cocked some of the time, but _I'm_ perfectly sane."

* * *

The wind whipped Mousse's long hair about him. When he'd finally agreed to be Kouryuu's pupil, it had been because he had every confidence in the man's martial arts abilities and he was eager to learn from someone of such great skill. Now, standing on the roof of the train station, the sheer brilliance of his master's capabilities as an instructor were starting to become clear. His methods were the sort so unorthodox in their genius that, had Mousse not known better, he might not have recognized them for what they were.

"What exactly are we doing, Sensei?" Mousse felt compelled to ask, gazing down at the train tracks below. Was this some sort of test?

"We're traveling to Nagoya," Kouryuu said simply.

"Yes, but Sensei-"

"Ah! Here comes the next train. We're in luck, it's slowing. It looks like this one won't pass us by. Good, it's stopped. All right, follow me then."

With that, Kouryuu leapt blithely off the edge of the roof, landing lightly on the back of the train.

"Come on," he called up. "Quickly now, before it starts to move again."

An overawed glow of sincere admiration filled Mousse, as the masterful cunning of his teacher's new training dawned on him.

"Yes, Sensei!" Mousse cried, and hastened to jump down after.

As the train's brakes released and it began to roll forward once again, Mousse scrabbled about for a handhold, his mind vibrating with the ecstatic anticipation of his master's daring training regimen. In some far-off corner of his mind that was easily ignored, Mousse thought he heard Kouryuu say something like, "I can't really understand why Nabiki recommended this. I'm sure it's bound to be faster than walking - but it strikes me as a bit dangerous."

* * *

As Nabiki walked past Ranma and out the kendo dojo door, the hair suddenly stood up on the back of his neck. At the same instant, Piku and Kunou stiffened. Kunou started to lunge forward, but Ranma was faster. He grabbed the door frame and swung out, colliding with Nabiki in a flying tackle as a bonbori whizzed past and buried itself in the dojo steps with an eruption of splintered wood.

"Nabiki, Shampoo _kill_!"

The declaration echoed from the top of the property wall, where Shampoo stood with a second bonbori at the ready, her face full of a cold rage that Ranma recognized all too well.

Ranma placed a somewhat shaken Nabiki back on her feet, and stood his ground. Kunou and Piku both leapt out over the breach in the stairs, drawing bokkens and looking quite ready to use them. Shampoo's gaze flicked to them briefly, but she made no move.

"Hasegawa," Kunou intoned, "you may be a wretched foreign cur transformed through fell magicks into the guise one of my noble countrymen, but I think we stand united to punish any who would dare deface the illustrious Kunou Tatewaki Training Hall."

Piku's smirk was without humor, but made up for it in menace. "That's not how I would have put it, but yes."

Ranma held up a hand to forestall any retaliation. "You guys _really_ don't wanna do that," he said. He called to the Amazon, "What do you want, Shampoo? Why'd you attack Nabiki?"

"Mercenary girl threatened my tribe!" Shampoo cried.

"You, the old crone, and Mousse hardly count as 'your tribe,'" Nabiki said. "And Mousse seemed perfectly happy with the arrangement. Maybe you should follow his lead and make the best of it."

Before Ranma could even begin to wonder what Nabiki had tried to put over on Shampoo and the old mummy, Shampoo shouted back a response, pointing her bonbori at Nabiki.

"Jouketsuzoku warriors never gives in to threats!"

"Alright then," Nabiki replied. "Call it a handy business arrangement, then."

"Look, Shampoo," Ranma interrupted, stepping in front of Nabiki, "I don't know what Nabiki did, but I'm pretty sure that killing her won't solve anything."

"Nabiki made threat. Shampoo kill Nabiki, threat go away."

"Not big on subtlety, is she?" Piku remarked, bokken still raised and ready for another attack.

"I don't know why you're getting so worked up over it just now," Nabiki's voice came from behind Ranma. "I told you the terms of the deal earlier this afternoon."

"Great-grandma explain everything to Shampoo. Mercenary girl threaten send us back to China!"

"Send them back to China?" Ranma asked over his shoulder.

"I threatened to deport them if they didn't play nice."

Ranma was duly impressed, but... "Why? I mean, nice going and all, but how come?"

"I was tired of paying for property damages, what do you think?"

Ah. Of course. Ranma should have known. When it came to Nabiki, all things boiled down to money.

"Shampoo, you gotta understand..." Ranma began, but wasn't sure how to go on. "Well, y'see..."

"Killing me would give you a criminal record," Nabiki said. "And that would definitely get you deported, or worse. And then where would you be? Besides in China, of course."

Shampoo lowered her bonbori, her expression puzzled, but defiant.

"Let me put it this way," Nabiki continued. "Attacking me will _definitely_ get you booted back to China. So will coming around here and wrecking stuff. Now, I'm willing to overlook this incident, but you'd better not try anything like this again."

Shampoo glared, but said nothing. After a moment, she dropped over the other side of the wall and disappeared from view.

Ranma let out a relieved sigh. Crisis averted. But... for how long? Shampoo was bound to be back eventually. Ranma, of all people, had certainly learned not to underestimate Shampoo's tenacity.

* * *

The sound of the doorbell broke in on Emi's concentration. "Just a moment," she called, rising from her desk and going to the door.

_Who would come by here at this time?_ she wondered. She pulled the door open to reveal Akane standing on the doorstep of her apartment with a cardboard box tucked under one arm.

"Hi, Emi!" Akane greeted her enthusiastically. "Can I come in?"

"Of... of course." Emi, momentarily surprised beyond words, stepped aside to let Akane in, and the girl bustled past her.

"What are you doing here?" Emi asked when she found her voice again. "I told you I'm not going to the dojo today - I have a lot of work to do."

Actually, spending so much time at the dojo of late was what had put Emi seriously behind on fundamental tasks like grading papers and reviewing upcoming lesson plans.

"Oh, is that why?" Akane replied absently, setting the box down and opening it up. "I figured you weren't coming because Kouryuu-san wouldn't be there."

Emi glowered at Akane's bended back. Would she ever learn to stop dropping these not-so-subtle hints? "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Akane said, brushing the comment aside and turning back to face Emi. "Anyway, my package finally arrived today, and I figured it must have been fate, because you being here means it's the perfect time for me to show you my new plan."

"Package?" Emi repeated in bewilderment, glancing at the box that seemed to be stuffed to overflowing with old shirts and pants. "Akane... what plan? What are you talking about?"

"My plan to get Ranma to respect me as a martial artist," Akane said matter-of-factly, as if that should be obvious. Her face took on a look of severe determination. "If I can only get him to fight me seriously for once... but, since Auntie Saotome's 'challenge' we aren't even supposed to argue, let alone fight."

Emi frowned. "Yes, and I've told you how ridiculous I think that is. As a couple you're bound to fight, no matter how much you really-"

"We are _not_ a couple," Akane interrupted with her usual automatic response.

"Oh, come off of it, Akane!" Emi shot back, somewhat more forcibly than she intended, startling her friend and pupil into silence.

Emi sighed. "Look, until you decide to tell Ranma and everyone else who seems to have a stake in this engagement that they can all just shove it, you two are a couple. Heck, you act enough like a couple, the way you fight. Not necessarily a _good_ couple, but... I mean, you're both so young now. Maybe when you and he mature a bit you'll settle down and stop bickering so much."

"So, what, you're saying I'm immature?" Akane challenged.

Emi considered this. Yes, she supposed she might say that, but it wouldn't be tactful. And the statement applied far more to Ranma.

"Alright then, when Ranma matures a bit maybe you'll stop bickering so much."

Akane gave a decisive nod to this concession, and turned back to the box, as if it were a triumph for her to hear that she was more mature than her fiancé. Emi thought it hardly that.

"You might think this is a little bit drastic," Akane said, rummaging through the box. "But I think it will work."

Emi didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. Akane scooped up an armful of items according to some selection Emi couldn't comprehend - or possibly at random - and headed for the bathroom. Sliding the door aside, she stepped in.

"I'll be out in a moment," she said, and slid the door shut again behind her.

* * *

Gripping the overhead strap as the train accelerated, Nabiki glanced back over her shoulder, trying to calm her nerves and reassure herself that no one she knew would witness this meeting. Some guy at the back of the train car was staring at her, but he turned away quickly to face out the window when he saw her looking his way.

_Pervert,_ she thought.

The PA clicked on, announcing her stop, and the train cruised to a halt. She stepped briskly out as the doors slid aside, heading for the agreed upon location.

When Nabiki reached the appointed street corner, Kunou was already there, waiting.

He nodded to her cordially by way of greeting. "Ironic, is it not, Tendou Nabiki," he commented, "that we only recently parted company at the dojo, only to find ourselves meeting again here in earnest secrecy? In the very midst of street traffic, I might add."

"Much safer to hide in a crowd," Nabiki replied, though the corner wasn't especially busy just then. "We can't be too careful. I don't want a repeat of the incident with Preston-kun."

"Really?" Kunou asked, raising an eyebrow. "You seemed to be quite enjoying the aftermath of that first threat."

Nabiki frowned. Did he know something?

"What makes you think that, Kunou-chan?" she asked innocently.

"Your manner," Kunou responded. "Your bearing. You have been in high spirits of late, all the while explaining - or refusing to explain - how you were battling the outlander's attempts at extortion."

Surprised, Nabiki didn't know what to say at first. She had always thought that Kunou's perceptiveness of other people's moods or emotions was, well, non-existent. Perhaps spending some time in reality to fight this betrothal farce had done him some good.

"Well, thwarting Preston didn't go as well as I had planned," Nabiki finally replied - and stopped short. What was she saying? Admitting weakness to Kunou, of all people? Besides, things had turned out just fine. She waved it away. "That's all unimportant. How have countermeasures been going on your end? Anything new to report?"

"Very little, truth be known," Kunou admitted. "You?"

Nabiki shook her head. "Not much." She'd been mostly preoccupied with other tasks, but recently she hadn't come across anything to alarm her on this front.

"It appears my father has moved on to other interests, as I predicted he would, namely: his new scheme to drain the Furinkan High School athletics pool for winter and fill it with pineapple-jello. Luckily, I allowed his plan to leak to the board of education, who he is now fully engaged in battling over the issue, with no time to devote to making our personal lives more miserable."

Perplexed, Nabiki had to ask, "Why jello?"

"As I've said before, do not expect me to understand the deranged mind of my father any better than you do. At any rate, all I have witnessed of late bespeaks a victory to us by way of attrition. It... appears as though this may be our last meeting."

"So it would seem," Nabiki agreed.

They both lapsed into silence, and Nabiki felt compelled to speak.

"It's been... interesting," she admitted. "I hate to say it, but you weren't half bad to work with, some of the time."

The corner of Kunou's mouth quirked up at the backhanded compliment, and he bowed slightly, the intended irony of the gesture tempered almost equally with a grudging sincerity. "The honor has been all mine, Tendou Nabiki."

_Meaning what? That I'm without any honor? Ha._ Nabiki shared in Kunou's near-smirk. But then his face fell back into a more serious cast. His eyes seemed to be searching her face. Suddenly not wanting to know what he found there, Nabiki turned away.

"Well, see you around, Kunou-chan," she called, sending a casual wave back over her shoulder as she walked away without looking back.

She didn't much care for the way that Kunou made her feel sometimes. Coarse, uncaring. Uncomfortable.

_Weak._

Making her way swiftly down the sidewalk, Nabiki reminded herself that the trains ran every five minutes, and there was no need to hurry. All the same, she quickened her pace, turning down an alleyway to take a shortcut back to the station.

A figure loomed out of the darkness by the brick wall bounding the alley. Nabiki's breath caught, half expecting it to be Ukyou or Shampoo, but the shape resolved itself into a pale-skinned man with a jet-black bowl cut. His face was a mass of bruises.

Nabiki let out her breath slowly. "You. What do you want?"

Other forms were coming down the alleyway towards her. Nabiki hazarded a backwards glance and was anxious but unsurprised to notice more arriving at the alley's entrance, strutting up from behind with an air of casual menace. _Stay calm, Nabiki..._

"That was a nasty trick you played on us," Bowl-cut said. She didn't know his name, but neither did he know hers, as had been part of their original arrangement.

"What trick? I paid you to smash up a restaurant and you failed. If anything, I should be demanding my money back."

"_You_ failed to mention the kendoist," he shot back coldly.

_Preston. Damn him,_ Nabiki thought vehemently. "What kendoist?" she extemporized, playing dumb.

One of the other thugs came forward, a fat-lipped and freckled man who had probably been ugly enough before having his face severely pummeled.

"The kid with the bokken. He jumped right in and attacked us as soon as we started making a scene. And then he went Super-Saiyan on us!"

"What?"

Bowl-cut shot Fat-lips an irritated look of warning.

"You know, Super-Saiyan," Fat-lips responded. "His hair turned yellow and he got all super-powered like Goku or -"

"Will you shut up about that!" Bowl-cut snapped, shoving the man roughly. "It's bad enough that you watch that stupid show, you don't have to go spouting shit like that!"

"Hey, I know what I saw!" Fat-lips protested.

"Will somebody shut him up!" Bowl-cut shouted, pushing Fat-lips back into a pair of other thugs who held his arms. He shrugged them off, his expression surly, but stayed where he was.

Bowl-cut turned back to Nabiki. "Look, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, little girl, but you set us up for a beating, and we don't take too kindly to that."

Nabiki gazed back at the thug defiantly. "So you were outclassed. What do you expect me to do about it? Pay for the hospital bills?"

Bowl-cut's open palm hit her face so hard she staggered into the wall. Shocked, Nabiki leaned against the unyielding bricks, heart pounding, not wanting to think about what was about to happen to her. Where was Ranma at a time like this? Far away at the Tendou Dojo, of course, teaching class - exactly where she'd put him.

"That's some big talk for a such a little girl," he sneered, reaching a hand towards her.

Nabiki sunk her teeth deep into the soft skin between his thumb and index finger, tasting blood. Bowl-cut screamed. Nabiki pushed herself away from the wall and made a wild dash between the two thugs who had come up behind her.

"Agh! Fucking bitch! Grab 'er!" she heard Bowl-cut screaming.

A thug with a shaved head - Nabiki realized he was the man who had been watching her on the train - made a grab for her as she went past. She felt his rough hand hook around her shirt collar, and she was spun back around as the front of her shirt ripped wide open, buttons flying everywhere, exposing her bra and the vulnerable flesh of her stomach.

The white, square back of a photograph floated through her field of vision, dislodged from its resting place beneath her torn shirt. Then someone flashed past her and straight into the thug with such force that the man's bald-domed head snapped back violently and he crumpled to the ground unconscious, his grip loosening and falling away along with him.

The bokken seemed to dance in Kunou's hand as he moved from one thug to the next with expert ease, dispatching each in turn with elegant strokes of his weapon; the last man collapsed in a heap just as the fluttering photograph finally came to rest on the pavement.

Kunou turned to her, looking quite composed. Nabiki stood breathing heavily for a moment. Then she rushed at him.

Flailing wildly, she pounded at his chest until he caught her wrists and held them, gently but firmly.

"I hate you! I hate you!" she shouted, and knew she was crying. His face was a stony mask; impassive, but not devoid of compassion.

Nabiki pulled her wrists out of his grip; wrapping her ripped-open shirt around her, she sat down with her back against he cold wall near one of the unconscious goons.

After awhile, her breathing slowed, and she felt a little calmer. "I hate feeling weak."

Kunou watched her silently for a moment. "You are not weak, Tendou Nabiki," he assured her when he spoke. "I may be stronger than you in body and spirit, but you are strong in mind, where I am not."

Nabiki loosed a feeble, half-hearted snort of laughter, letting it out as a puff of air through her nostrils. "So, what, you get two strengths and I only get one?" She stared off down the alleyway at nothing. "Don't be hard on yourself. You're no mental midget."

"Only when I stand on your shoulders." He paused in silence again for a time. "And you... you're no moral midget, Tendou Nabiki. Though you would have some believe otherwise."

"Oh, please," Nabiki rounded on him, trying to blink away the sting of tears threatening to form in her eyes again. "You're the one who sees humanity before rationality - isn't that what you've been saying?"

Kunou cast his gaze downward. "But without seeing clearly, my... ideals serve me but ill," he confessed. "You have... helped me to see more clearly."

Nabiki considered his words for a moment. "Same thing can be said for rationality without morality, Kunou-chan. I'm guilty of my own blindness." She paused again. "Maybe worse than yours."

Which was more terrible: being well-meaning but misguided or being willfully inconsiderate? Nabiki thought she knew the answer.

"It occurs to me that this is the second time you have been violently attacked today," Kunou broke in after another long silence. He wasn't looking at her, but gazing off down the alley, bokken lowered but ready in his hand.

"As always, you're a master of observation, Kunou-chan," Nabiki said hoarsely. She didn't want to cry again, but she felt like she wasn't done. Part of her wanted him to go away so she could cry in peace, but another part of her desperately wanted him to stay.

"I'm only noting," Kunou was saying, "that it appears you could use a bodyguard." He looked down at her. "That is, if you'll have me."

Nabiki brightened slightly. A new business arrangement. Yes, it might be conceivable, but...

"What sort of compensation are you expecting out of this?"

"If the rate of attacks continues at even half the current amount, I would receive the benefits of consistent practice in my art and a continuous stream of opponents to test myself against."

Nabiki gave him an incredulous look. "That's it? That's all you're asking?"

"You're not a martial artist, so you wouldn't understand," Kunou said, with a bit of that irritating high-and-mighty air that irked her so. "The means to continue refining my skill in the art are all the compensation I need. So, yes, that is all that I ask in return for my services as bodyguard." Once again, the corner of his mouth quirked up as he bowed to her. "That, and of course the... somewhat dubious pleasure of your company."

"Dubious yourself," she snapped, standing up. She faced away from him to get herself in order, tying the corners of her now button-less shirt in a knot so that the two halves drew together enough to cover her bra, while leaving her stomach and upper chest exposed. It was getting a bit chilly out for the style to be really comfortable, but it afforded her a modicum of modesty - with the added benefit of showing off some of her feminine assets.

"I believe this is yours."

Nabiki turned back around to discover Kunou, his expression unreadable, proffering the dropped photograph that clearly displayed the two of them sitting on the Furinkan lawn under a tree.

Nabiki thanked him demurely and tucked it back into her shirt.

* * *

Emi stood waiting impatiently outside the door to the bathroom. She heard the soft shuffle of clothes falling to the floor, then the inner door to the bath sliding open, then shut. A moment of silence; then the sound of water.

_What in the world is that girl up to?_ Emi wondered. _What, is she going to take a bath? Is that her fantastic plan?_

An audible splash was followed by a scream that sounded very, very wrong.

Emi rushed to the door, threw it aside, feet stumbling through a tangle of clothes, threw aside the inner door, and gasped out, "Akane, what's wrong?! What happened?!"

Akane was sitting on the shower stool, sobbing uncontrollably, dripping wet - and very, distinctly male.

"Oh, no." Emi slumped against the wall, shaking. "Oh, no, Akane... what have you done?"

End Part VI

* * *

* Really and sincerely, all apologies to Matsuo Basho (or to his ghost anyway) for my misappropriation and misuse of his famous haiku in constructing Piku's vulgar doggerel. I'm actually a fan of Basho's work, and meant no harm. The original poem is as follows (in English and Japanese):

An old pond;  
A frog jumps in -  
The sound of water.

_furu ike ya  
kawazu tobikomu  
mizu no oto_

The Japanese version of my horrible mangling would read like this:

_furu ike ya  
kawazu tobikomu  
zakennayo_

And yes, I'm fairly certain that last line is considered five syllables (or 'mora' rather) as the Japanese count them.

I don't recommend you recite this to any Japanese people, but if you do, I cannot be held accountable for the results. I fear I may have committed a sort of cultural felony here. But it sure as hell cracked me up at the time.


End file.
